David Rossi was sitting at home in Rhode Island one night in early 2022, his prime having all but passed him by. His days as an Engelbert Humperdinck impersonator, of Florida cruise ships, of $2,000-a-week cash payouts, of hanging out with Tom Jones and meeting Elvis, all the girls, the glamour — he’d left it all behind for a woman and her three children. That decision, he believed, ruined his life.
There were no opportunities for singers like him in New England, and he’d frittered away his money, eventually ending up in a dank, ground floor apartment that reeked of stale tobacco. The woman and her children were long gone. A series of subsequent relationships had also failed. Rossi was alone, save for sporadic visits from an ex-
girlfriend whom he still deeply cared for, as well as her boyfriend, whom he disliked. He suffered from emphysema, insomnia and diabetes. His cheeks were sunken, cadaver-like, and his beard stubbly.
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