65:Family Affair

Jon was feeling pretty good about this as he pulled the gate open and escorted Chiara through.  More and more, he was discovering a genuine fondness for the woman who didn’t require the censored version of him.  They both said whatever the hell was on their minds, back and forth until they found an even keel.  It made things comfortable even in the midst of a heated exchange.

He liked the rapport they’d found.

“Ohhhh my worrrrrd!” 

Jon mentally groaned at the theatrically drawled exclamation.  Of course Lilah would be the first to catch sight of them coming up path that connected the driveway to the big back deck. 

“Don’t start, Kentucky,” he warned brusquely as the counselor’s hand tightened around his. 

“What?”  She was wearing the wide, transforming smile that her drunken husband had been known to wax poetic over in the early days of their marriage, and it shone as brightly as the rhinestones on her Jovi Girl t-shirt.  “I’m not allowed to appreciate that your head’s a thousand times prettier when it’s not stuck up your backside?”

When he thought that his sister-in-law’s sarcastic question was funny instead of annoying as fuck, Jon knew he might be in trouble here.  His laughter mixed with Chiara’s lighter version and a quick glance confirmed that she was smiling as broadly as the woman who was clambering down the stairs to join them. 

“Charlie, honey,” she gushed, pulling her out of Jon’s grasp for a fierce hug and then rearing back with a furrowed brow of concern.  “How are you?  How’s Caleb?”

“I think it’s been harder on me than him, but we’re both fine.  Thank you.”

Desiree was right behind the sassy Southerner, offering her own hug to Jon’s girlfriend while Tony nodded a dark head from the deck and raised his beer with a shit-eating grin.  There was no levity in his bodyguard brother’s face, however.  Matt’s face swam with confusion and questions, which would have to be privately addressed later. 

Taking quick inventory, he found his youngest two boys at the far end of the massive yard.  They were bouncing on the trampoline with Matt’s kids and Micah Jane.  His parents were seated at the table on the deck and wore matching looks of blatant interest, to which he silently nodded his acknowledgment.

At fifty-three, he shouldn’t be nervous over introducing Chiara to his parents, but hell.  Bell bottoms were still in fashion the last time he’d brought a girl for them to meet, and they loved Dorothea to this day.  He was the asshole responsible for the broken home from which their grandchildren now hailed, and he hoped the counselor wasn’t about to pay for that sin.

Then again, when they found out she was the one who stuck it to him in the divorce, maybe they’d adopt her.  It was hard telling with his poker-faced mother.

“C’mon,” he prompted quietly, placing a hand at the small of her back and squaring his shoulders in preparation for finding out.  “I need to introduce you to Mom and Dad.”

“I’m gonna throw up.” 

The morosely muttered statement was exactly what Jon needed to ease his tension.  His parents both excelled at the social graces, and they would be gracious even if they didn’t adore her the same way as the rest of the family did. 

Flicking amused eyes her way as they trudged up the stairs, he advised from the corner of his mouth, “Aim away from her shoes.  She loves shoes more than her sons.  Not the grandkids, but me and my brothers for sure.”

“Remind me not to call you if I ever feel suicidal.”

Laughing, he dropped her overnight bag in the corner of the deck closest to the back door and, when she pushed it at him, put her purse on top of it before steering her to the opposite corner.  His mother and father had glasses of wine in front of them, Jon noticed on approach, and it reminded him that she wanted a drink.

“Tony.  Get the counselor a glass of wine?”  Upon receiving his brother’s nod of confirmation, he brought Chiara to stand beside him.  “Mom.  Dad.  This is Chiara.  Counselor, this is my dad, John, and mother, Carol.”

“It’s so nice to meet you Mr, and Mrs. Bongiovi,” she enthused warmly, with no signs of pending puke as she extended her hand to first one and then the other. "Jesse befriended my sons on the beach in East Hampton, so I’ve spent some time getting to know your sons and their families.  You must be very proud.”

Carol staunchly assured, “Of course we are.  What parents wouldn’t be?”

“Absolutely,” came her husband’s reinforcement.  “I’m sorry, though.  What was it Jonny called you?”

“Chiara.”  Jon spoke her name more slowly this time.

When his father’s face still didn’t clear with comprehension, Chiara laughed lightly while accepting her wine from Tony.  “Now you know why everybody but Jon calls me Charlie.  Please feel free to do the same.”

His mother’s smile, Jon thought, was genuine when remarking, “It’s a lovely name.”

“Yes it is.”  John, Senior was quick to concur.  “Although that’s not what I was referring to.  Counselor, did he say?”

“Charlie’s a lawyer, Dad,” Tony offered from the seat he had assumed on the deck rail, flanked by his wife.  Matt was still wearing a stony expression as he fired up the grill and Desiree was arranging food on a folding table to the side. 

“Oh, I see.  Very nice.”

So far so good.  His parents didn’t seem turned off by his girlfriend, even though they didn’t technically know that’s what she was.  They could ease into that without any kind of formal announcement, he thought. 

“And yet I still like her.”  Jon pulled out a chair and gestured for the counselor to sit beside his mother while he planned to take the seat beside her. 

“Jon, could I talk to you for a minute?”

The request from Matt came just as Chiara  settled into her chair, and Jon smothered a sigh.  He knew what the subject matter would be.  “Yeah.  Excuse me.”

Leaving the counselor with his parents under the supervision of Tony and Lilah, Jon backtracked down the deck stairs and into the yard where his youngest brother was removing the plastic wrap from a plate of uncooked meat. 

“What the fuck?” Uttered quietly and with his back to everyone else, they were the first words out of his mouth when Jon joined him. 

“Look...”  Matt was just watching out for him, like a good brother.  Jon knew he would do the same in this situation, so he was extremely patient when explaining, “I know you have my back, and I appreciate it, but I’m not getting into this right now.  The short story is she’s getting a divorce and we’re seeing each other.  Good enough?”

Tossing the wadded plastic wrap aside, Matt wore a puckered frown as he put a fist on his hip and agreed, “Good enough for you is good enough for me, but I just can’t help thinkin’…  That guy sure as hell didn’t act like he knew there was a divorce in the works.  Yanno?”

The scene from Vancouver immediately cued up in Jon’s mind and, along with it, came the ingrained anger at finding out exactly who Owen was.  The whole encounter wasn’t more than five minutes, but during that time, Owen Foster had used the phrases “my wife” and “my family” at least twice.  There was nothing in his demeanor or language to suggest awareness of an impending divorce.

He also said “Charlie would love a snapshot of all her guys with a rock star”.

Jon set his jaw, wondering if this was one of those occasions where he was being a dreamer.  Was he seeing what he wanted to see and hearing what he wanted to hear?  God forbid, was he being played for a fool?

“I appreciate the insight, but don’t worry about it,” he downplayed the doubt to his brother, clapping him on the shoulder with a smile.  “We’re good.”

Now he just had to make sure they really were.

“Matt!  Get up here!”

The heads of both men snapped around at Desiree’s shout to find her standing at the deck rail and waving her arm.  From the smile on her face, no one was dead or dying, but she had her husband well-trained, and he immediately trudged in that direction with Jon following behind. 

“What?”

Meeting him at the top of the steps, she curled an arm around his waist and guided him to where the counselor was no longer sitting but standing next to the senior Bongiovis.  All of them were looking at a piece of paper that was lying on the table, and Des pushed her husband front and center so that he could see it, too.

“Look what Charlie brought you.”

“I, uh…”  Chiara shrugged apologetically.  “I didn’t feel right coming to celebrate your birthday without a gift and had some time on the flight home.  I asked Desiree to look at it first, though, to… make sure, I guess.  She seems to think you’ll like it, so happy birthday, Matt.”

Jon squeezed his head in between his brother and Desiree to share in the view and, when he did, it was to find that the source of everyone's fascination was a drawing.  Apparently, the counselor had been busy with some artwork because the paper on the table was a pencil portrait of Matt’s kids – and it was an astounding likeness. 

“Did you do that from memory?” Lilah inquired from the edge of the crowd. 

Chiara’s dark ponytail swished over her back as she shook her head.  “No.  Des added me on Facebook about the same time you did last week, Lilah.  There are quite a few pictures of the kids on her page, and I was able to work from those.”

“It’s awesome,” the recipient of the gift finally spoke up, although he sounded more stunned than appreciative.  “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

“You’re very talented, Charlie.”  This from Jon’s mother.  “I find it odd that you’re a lawyer with all that talent.”

With a laugh, the counselor dryly informed her, “I get that a lot, but being a starving artist didn’t really fit in with my parents' plans for me.  Daddy always told me art was a fine hobby, but being a lawyer would pay the bills because people always need a lawyer.  He was right, but it didn’t stop me from getting a minor in Visual Arts to go with my Pre-Law degree.”

Something about that rubbed Jon the wrong way.  She was obviously doing okay if she could afford to support her lazy ass husband and send both boys to Stanford, but there was a wistfulness to her voice that spoke of regret.  If his parents had been more worried about him paying the bills instead of pursuing his art, Jon would likely be busting his hump working a blue collar job that barely did pay the bills.

God only knew where that would leave his brothers.  It was a moment of gratitude for his parents and resentment for hers.

“Your art is amazing,” Jon declared, sliding an arm around her waist and squeezing.  “I can’t wait to see what you come up with for the studio.”

He really, really liked this woman and wanted to be right in believing that she was on the verge of divorce instead of rooking him into some fucked up mess.  It was becoming a disturbingly familiar theme, but now wasn’t the time to find out one way or the other.  Now, they would enjoy a couple glasses of wine and a nice dinner. 

After, though…

After, they would go back to her place and hash it out once and for all.