Page 102 of Before the Encore

Bonnie took a seat on the sofa, tucking her knees to her chest, while Madison boiled the kettle.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she fished it out.

Ruby: This Friday at Mum’s?? I’ll cook your favourite spaghetti with the lil hotdogs?

Please? Pretty please with a hotdog on top?

Madison stared at the message for a while, the kettle humming in the background. She didn’t want to think about her mum right now. Though Ruby was right—she couldn’t avoid it forever. She slipped her phone back into her pocket when steam filled the air and plucked two mugs from the cupboard.

When she returned with two steaming ginger and honey teas, Bonnie still had her gaze directed out the window.

“This album has millions of streams,” Bonnie said. “Fans love it. It’s played all over the radio. What am I doing wrong?”

Madison pressed in beside her, laying a hand on her thigh. “I don’t know how the nominations work, but if it’s something you’re proud of, you don’t need validation from a bunch of music snobs.”

“That’s the thing.” Bonnie pulled her lip between her teeth. “I did it their way. How the label wanted—how Bailey wanted—and it didn’t get nominated. It makes me wonder if I’d have done it my way, would it be different?”

“Maybe.” Madison shrugged. “But you can’t get caught in the what ifs. Use that for your future. Make it different.”

Bonnie nodded, fingers drumming thoughtfully against her thigh. “Bailey really is such a wanker.”

“He is.”

“And he needs me more than I need him.”

“Yup.” Madison pressed her lips together. There was so much she could say about the squirrel-faced, arrogant arsewipe, but she wanted Bonnie to get everything off her chest first.

“I can’t put it off any longer.” Bonnie sighed. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to let my music be filtered and dictated by a bunch of men. I don’t want to do stupid interviews with teenagers asking about my favourite type of bread.” When her gaze met Madison’s, it burned with a new fire, one that set her skin tingling. “I have so many songs that were refused. They told me they didn’t fit their vision. That they were too slow and lacked star quality. Well, fuck them!”

Madison chuckled. She loved this fiery side to her. “Yes! That’s more like it.” Bonnie deserved the world, and this was well overdue.

Bonnie sipped from her mug, her eyes flicking back and forth as her mind worked. “I probably have enough for an album.” She padded to the other side of the room, where Madison’s guitars rested against the wall, and plucked up her songbook. They’d been working on some songs together in the afterglow. She sat back beside her, flicking through the paper. “Look at all of these. Wasted!”

“You can take back control. You have the power.” When Madison caught her name penned at the top of one of the pages, she reached for the book. “What was that one? Did you write a song about me?”

Bonnie fell silent as Madison scanned the title.

‘Fuck Off Madison Moore’

“It was a long time ago,” Bonnie explained with nervous laughter.

Madison combed over the lyrics, and a smirk tugged at her mouth. “Damn. I really got under your skin, huh?”

“You could say that.”

“‘If looks could kill, you’d be choking on your ego’. That’s some sexual tension right there.”

“Shut up.” Bonnie snatched the book back, a new flush tinging her cheeks.

Madison leaned back, her ego definitely stroked. “We could use that one. It’s good. Though, the title probably needs some work.”

“Really?” Bonnie eyed her sceptically. “You wouldn’t mind? Knowing I wrote this song when I thought you were the worst human alive?”

“Not at all.” She grinned. “Look at you now. Fully corrupted and ripe for the pickin’.”

Bonnie scoffed, but a smile played on her lips. She flicked through the pages, drawing stars by certain songs. “This feels good. It feels…right.”

“Yes!” Madison leaned over to capture her lips in a rough, passionate kiss. “Just say the word, and I’ll get the Scooby gang over here.”