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)
“Ah,” the roadie says like she knows exactly what that means. “Seems like she knew about that going in, though.”
“Knowing and witnessing are two different things.”
“Right. Well, you need to fight for her. Because you’re the best thing that’s happened to her since I’ve been on this crazy train. You make her happy. And she needs a guy like you around.” She glances toward the hallway where I smashed Hugh to the wall. “For a variety of reasons.”
“I’m not gonna force myself on her.”
“No, of course not. But don’t just give up. She deserves a little effort, don’t you think?” The woman doesn’t wait for my answer, just turns and clomps off down the hall in her combat boots and faded jeans.
A little effort.
Damn straight Pepper deserves a little effort.
I just have to figure out what shape it should take.
Chapter 13
Pepper
Singing my own songs again feels good. My voice is better. I got acupuncture every day in L.A. and had no one to talk to. Now, as I stand on the Bellissimo stage holding the mic, my vocal cords feel rested and mostly healed.
Too bad the rest of me still feels like curling up in a ball and dying.
Everything about returning to the Bellissimo slayed me, from the sign with my name in lights out front to the clean vanilla and oranges scent of the lobby. I feel Tony everywhere. I look for him everywhere, even though I pray I won’t find him.
The time away did nothing to alleviate the gnawing anxiety in my gut nor the heaviness that drags my limbs down. I was still greeted like an honored guest when I arrived and informed that my suite was held for me. Even that made my heart ache.
To make matters worse, Sondra and Corey came backstage before the show. “Hey, I’ve been worried about you.” Sondra wrapped me up in a warm hug, like we’re old friends.
I blinked back tears. “I’m okay.”
“You are?” She peered at me doubtfully.
“Tony’s not,” Corey interjects. “The man would die for you. You know that, right?”
Lord. Just take my heart right out of my chest and get it over with.
“He’s not a criminal,” Sondra says. “I just want to say that. They may have come from organized crime, and they may still have family ties, but the Bellissimo men are legit. They have honor and compassion and run a clean business.”
I didn’t know if she was telling me to defend her own man or to advocate for Tony, but all I could do was nod and excuse myself to go on stage.
Now, as I sing my final song, my mind is on nothing but Tony. Is he here in the auditorium? Will he try to talk to me? What will I say? I doubt my ability to stay strong if I see him.
I’m also starting to doubt my ability to go on without him. The buoyancy I discovered since I met him is gone. Life feels heavy again, especially when everything looks the same.
Hugh’s still backstage, purportedly running the damn show, even though I reminded him he was fired. My parents decided to go home as soon as they found out I returned. I guess staying to hear me play wasn’t on their wish list of things to do.
The crowd loves me tonight, which is good, because I’m not loving myself much. I can’t stop the nagging feeling that I let Tony down. That Sondra spoke the truth and I misjudged him. I bow to the standing ovation and jog off the stage.
I hear a shout and see a flash of light.
Izzy shoves me from the side just as something huge and heavy slams down. It strikes her square across her shoulder, knocking her to the floor and pinning her beneath it. Her head smacks the stage with a sickening thud.
A giant metal light pole with the light still attached.
I scream and yank the light pole off her, burning my hands on the hot metal frame. “Izzy! Oh God. Someone call 911!”
She moans softly.
Thank God—she’s not dead.
“What happened? Is it Pepper?” Hugh comes running over. I register him standing behind us, staring, but I’m too busy talking to Izzy, trying to get her to wake up and say something.
Farley calls for an ambulance and casino security pour in, barking orders not to move her and to stand back.
Izzy slips in and out of consciousness during the long minutes it takes for the ambulance to arrive. Someone presses a grape Gatorade bottle into my hand and I guzzle half of it, the strong, salt and sweet taste burning my tongue. Izzy’s eyes crack open and she attempts to make a joke.
Everything’s a blur as the paramedics swarm in and take her out on a stretcher. Then Hugh takes me by the shoulder and nudges me to the dressing room. Anton escorts me upstairs.