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 hear
