Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 48371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
I flick my gaze at Pepper again, who is not even pretending not to eavesdrop. “She is very nice. Do you wanna meet her? Why don’t you come for a visit?”
I’ve been living in Vegas for ten years now and still haven’t convinced my mom to come. I want her to see the Bellissimo, see what I do. I’m pretty sure she still thinks I’m the neighborhood thug, bloodying faces for Don Tacone.
More than anything, though, I want her to get out and enjoy herself. Live a little. Tad is a miserable piece of shit, and I would kick his ass to the curb if I thought I could get away with it. But my mom would never forgive me.
She still hasn’t forgiven me for what I did to my dad.
“No, Tony. You know I don’t like to travel. But you tell her I’m a fan. Send me an autograph, okay?”
“Sure, Ma. I’ll get you an autograph.”
“I love you, Tony.”
“Love you, Ma.”
I hang up and shake my head. It fucking kills me to not to be able to make her happy. Some people refused to be saved.
But fuck if I don’t have to keep trying.
I get out of the rental car and Pepper follows.
Angela, my director of events, researched all the laryngologists and found out Doctor Shen is the one who works on all the stars. We figured she must be the best, so I told Angela to do anything she had to do to get us in.
Turns out, dropping Pepper’s name was enough.
But when they take Pepper back into an examination room, I’m antsier than a caged lion. I can’t demand to be let back in with her, nor can I insist on the doctor speaking to me about what’s going on. Fortunately, she comes out to the lobby. “Are you her manager?”
“Yes, I am.”
Pepper raises her eyebrows at me, but doesn’t say different.
“So I see quite a bit of swelling of her vocal chords, most likely from overuse, as well as a cold she had a month ago. I do want to get an MRI run this afternoon to rule out polyps or cysts, but if I find nothing, my prescription is total vocal rest—no speaking, no singing. For at least a week, maybe two. I understand she’s in the middle of a tour, but if she doesn’t rest, she runs the risk of permanent damage.”
“I understand, Doctor Shen, thank you.”
“I also recommend seeing an acupuncturist. I can give you a referral to several in L.A., if you want.”
“Eh, we’re going to be in Vegas, but I’ll look for someone there. Thanks again. I really appreciate you getting her in on short notice today. I know you had to rearrange your schedule.”
“No, it’s my pleasure. My daughter is a big fan.” She grins and waves her cell phone, where a selfie of her and Pepper graces the front. “She would’ve killed me if I missed the chance to see Ms. Heart.”
Pepper winks behind her. I shake my head. She’s so damn accommodating to her fans. There’s a generosity and general sweetness to her I didn’t expect. It makes me even more determined to protect her from all those who want to use her—from her manager/producer. From the Tacones.
From me.
Too bad that’s not going to be possible. Especially with what I have to do this afternoon.
Pepper
After the MRI, Tony drives the rental Range Rover toward Beverly Hills. I’m not sure what it says that I’m not even slightly tempted to ask for a visit to my parents’ house. Well, technically, it’s my house, but I bought it for them. Or they bought it with my money, depending on how you look at it.
When Tony pulls up in front of a mansion with a moving truck and cop car sitting in front, though, I sit up and pay attention.
“This is Hugh’s place,” I say. My voice, after resting all day, comes out perfectly clear.
Tony’s already getting out of the vehicle, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He stops and points a warning finger at me, and I totally lose my cool. Enough with acting like he’s in charge of me. It may have been fun when his hands were on my hips and his cock was buried deep inside me, but now? Real life shit? Not so much. And whatever is going down here is not going to be pretty.
I get out and slam the door. “What in the hell is going on?”
Tony’s jaw tightens, but he chooses to ignore me, walking instead toward the thugs who are standing around the cop car, talking to the police while dialing a number on his phone. “Yeah, Hugh. I’m at your house. I need you to tell the police that we’re supposed to be here moving your shit out.”
Even trailing five feet behind Tony I can hear Hugh’s voice explode on the other end. First he yells, then there’s talking. Wheedling, I’m sure.