Cowboy Diaries - a Jon Bon Jovi fan fiction

20: Ain't No Doctor That Can Cure My Disease

16. December 1991, Jon's house

Jon's  POV

"What's that last name Bongiovi? Ha ha ha it sounds like some pasta sauce. Or like Buon Giorno. Hey we could call you John Buongiorno from now on."

"If you decide to play that concert tomorrow, I will not let you pass. ...Actually, you know what? Go to that event of yours, you won't pass your exam anyway with the few lessons you attended this year."

"Stop chasing that dream, it won't happen and you will be left with nothing. Start thinking real and get an education."

"I no longer want to be the girlfriend of a drug addict. Or what's even worse, a rock star. We will get homeless if it doesn't work out and if it does you'll leave me for another girl."

"You can't look like that."

"Alright rock star you're fired! Get your ass out...

"And? Anything you want to tell me about?" Mr. Adams asked me. 

"Nothing worth to mention." I answered, slowly drifting back to reality after having had to think about my childhood and teenage years. 

"But there has to be something. No traumatic experience?" 

"No, just the usual shit. Trouble in school, at home. It's in the past now, I never cared much about that after it."

"Then go further." 

I didn't want to. This man was some kind of psychologist and it felt like he could read my mind already. I didn't want him to know what I thought. What would it help? What did he want anyways if he didn't even want my money for it? 

I had thought about that a lot before I finally decided to let him in, or rather I was forced by the guys, especially Tico. Maybe he was a reporter in disguise and now wanted to find a new drama in my life he could write about. What a smart move that actually would be. But no, I wouldn't tell him. At least not everything.

"Come on. This doesn't work if you don't participate." Well, that was basically the goal. 

"Why don't you ask the other guys at first, I'm not the only problem here." I answered like some stubborn kid. What even was that? He said each of us should talk about their life a bit so that we could find out what our actual problem was. And this then would help the situation in the band to get better again.

But this rather was like some police interview. And I was the criminal while the others just were the victims. 

"I'll talk with them after you. Come on, let's get it over with. What in the last years you remember, which events particularly have changed you?"

"Actually there weren't that many bad moments. There was Moscow, we played many great concerts, sure the last two tours were exhausting but they were also fun and made our dreams come true..." My memories drifted off, off to the things no one should know: 

"No, leave, I don't want to see your face ever again. Get out of my life. You let someone kill him. You let someone kill my son. He was killed because of you! How could I not hate you?!"

"I knew it, you stupid bastard, you men are all the same. You're different? How laughable. I should've known earlier that we can never work. There can be no US. In your life there's only a YOU. 

Or on some days there is another girl. Oh come on, probably way more often than that, don't tell me that that was the first time. Get the fuck out of my life now!"