84

Pepper
“Are they going to kill him?” I finally work up the courage to ask. My voice is raspy and sore from yelling at Hugh.
We’re naked-all four of us: me, Izzy and the two Tacone women, Corey and Sondra-lounging in the Bellissimo spa’s jacuzzi. The spa is closed, but Corey had a key.
When they led me away, Corey said, “All right, this is operation Rescue Pepper. What do you want? A stiff drink? Food? A long soak in the jacuzzi?”
I think she was half-joking about the jacuzzi, but I was all over it. My body can use every bit of pampering it can get. They decided the closed spa would be far better than the pool outside, especially considering none of had our suits with us.
“No,” Corey answers my question about Hugh, playing with the bubbles. “I mean, I doubt it.” She flicks a glance at Sondra, who we learned is her cousin and the new wife of the owner of the casino. She’s engaged to the brother, Stefano.
“Definitely not,” Sondra agrees, but neither of them look as certain as they sound.
“Well, he seriously deserves whatever he gets,” Izzy says bitterly. She’s more pissed off about Hugh’s assault on me than I am.
Of course, she doesn’t know that Hugh just had his house cleaned out by Tony and company and that’s why he’s lashing out at me. The man is definitely on the brink of a nervous breakdown. Not that I’m not.
I touch my face where Hugh slapped me. It still smarts a little, but I don’t think it will bruise. It’s already better.
“Do you need some ice for that?” Corey asks. She has a bucket of ice beside her, because she had room service deliver us champagne and a fruit and cheese platter, as well as hot tea with honey for me. She shoves it toward me, but I shake my head and down my champagne instead. Alcohol is on the list the doctor gave me of things I shouldn’t do, but I’ve had a long day.
“Tony’s usually a big teddy bear,” Sondra says. “But he can’t stand seeing a woman hurt. There’s some story there about his dad, but I don’t know exactly what. Just that Nico’s dad helped him out of a rough situation and now he’s loyal to the core, unless it comes to someone hurting a woman.”
I shake my head and sink deeper into the hot water, trying to resist the rush of sympathy that bubbles up for Tony. Of course he’d be from a violent home. How else do you get into the mob?
And now I know why he was so offended when I suggested he would force me into sex.
I wriggle in the hot water. I still feel everywhere he’s been. My anus is a little tender from his thumb, the front of my pelvis sore from the sink. It was definitely the hottest sex I’ve ever had. With a man who is probably beating up my manager right now for slapping me.
He’s not a hero.
He’s not a hero.
Why does it feel like he’s kind of my hero? I don’t like the way the barricades I built against him are starting to crumble and fall.
I eye the cousins. They seem like smart women-kind, even. What are they doing with mafia men? I want to ask, but I can’t figure out how to phrase it in a way that won’t piss them off. I’ve had enough piss-off for today. Right now it’s nice to have friendlies around for a change.
Sondra pours more champagne in our glasses. “Well, I know you don’t really want to be at the Bellissimo, but I have to say when I heard you were coming, I was stoked. I’m a huge fan.”
“Same,” Corey says.
“Pepper puts on a great show,” Izzy says, lifting her champagne glass to me.
“You don’t even like my music.”
Her eyes pop out, like she’s shocked I noticed. Like I don’t know her musical taste and what she listens to on her Spotify channel. She sets her champagne glass down and leans forward. “That’s not true. I love your early stuff.”
“You just think I’m a sold out pop star now.”
She shrugs. “Well, you are.”
It’s the truth. We both know it, but having it said out loud to me, does something horrible to my insides. Half my face feels like crying-the right half. I know that doesn’t even make sense, but I feel the weight there, the sagging grief. Maybe the other half had already admitted this plain-stated fact.
The two Bellissimo women watch us, wide-eyed.
“I’ve often wondered why you stuck around,” I scratch out.
She pales. She picks up her champagne glass and throws the rest back. “I can’t leave you,” she mumbles into the glass. “I don’t trust Hugh… to do right by you. He’s a selfish prick.”
I’m touched. “Thanks,” I crackle. “I appreciate it.”
It’s funny, because I haven’t really considered her a friend until this moment. She’s not the friendly type. She keeps to herself in a moody-broody kind of way. But maybe that’s just introversion. And now that I think about it, she’s always there when the shit hits the fan. Always right beside me, like she was tonight.
I look back at Sondra and Corey. “Anyway, it’s not that I don’t want to be here,” I croak. “I’m just exhausted, and losing my voice.” I finger my throat.
“Yeah, they’re going to cancel your shows for the rest of the week so you can rest,” Sondra says.
My brows shoot up. “They are?” The words crack and break in my throat.
“Yeah. I heard Tony telling Nico during the show.”
For some reason, my face gets hot and tears prick my eyes.
Don’t be stupid. He’s not cancelling because he cares about you.
Or is he? He already told me the shows are sold out for the next week and he’d lose money if he rescheduled. Or maybe he’s just afraid to risk the lip synching.
But he made the decision after hearing from the doctor that I should rest, not after finding out I was lip synching. Why does it feel like I get more consideration from Tony than I do from the people who are supposed to be making my life easier? From Tony, or Anton. From my parents, even.
Does Tony care? Or is it just his way? Some innate need to protect women because of his upbringing.
He’s not your hero.
I give my head a shake. Why in the hell am I analyzing Tony Brando’s behavior toward me, anyway? I definitely shouldn’t care so much.
I climb out of the hot tub and pull on a luxurious spa robe. “Well, thanks, ladies,” I chirp with my broken voice. “This has been fun, but I’d better get to bed.”
They climb out also. “We’d better walk with you,” Corey says. “Do you need to go back to the dressing room? You don’t have your room key or anything.”
“I’ll go back and get your stuff,” Izzy offers.
“Really? Thank you.”
“And I can call someone to let you in your room,” Sondra suggests. “The Bellissimo has excellent service and you’re a special guest. Don’t hesitate to make demands while you’re here, okay?”
I smile. “Thanks. Yeah, having someone let me in my room would be great. I don’t even feel like getting dressed,” I attempt to say, my words lost in a whisper.
“So don’t,” Corey says. “Fuck it. We’ll all go out in our robes.” She grins at me.
Sondra picks up her clothes and tightens the robe belt. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Screw that,” Izzy mutters, already back in her faded baggy blue jeans and a Big Lebowski t-shirt. “I’ll meet you at your suite.”
My limbs are heavy and relaxed from the hot water and despite the shit-tastic day, despite getting slapped by my manager and strong-armed by a mafia enforcer, I feel better than I have in a while. Maybe it’s just the champagne talking.
Or maybe it’s about friends. Or taking care of me for once.
Who cares? All I know is it’s something different from the existential rut I’ve been in for the past months.
I can breathe for a change.
When I get back to my room, I pick up my acoustic guitar and mess around. Nothing amazing happens, but I don’t have that dead, stuck feeling I’ve had for so long, either. Maybe the muse isn’t dead, after all.