Page 112 of Before the Encore

Laughter rebounded around the space. Bonnie forced her feet to move. Scarlett linked her arm, guiding her along the corridor and back towards the dancefloor. The crowd hushed, everyone turned towards the stage where bright lights lit up Roberto’s shiny forehead. His words blended together, stretching in an echo, mixing with laughter.

Heat spread up Bonnie’s neck, coating her in a sticky sweat.

Photographers and videographers pointed their cameras towards the stage, awaiting Lipstick Fever’s entrance. Lights flashed. She blinked, trying to focus. Ruby and Madison’s mum stood at the front beside Kam and Frank’s family. Bonnie should be up there too in the front row. This was the band’s night. They deserved all of the attention and celebration. And she wanted to be there with them. But if she moved into the front, under the spotlights, Madison would see her. She’d know something was wrong. And she deserved her moment.

“This band has never needed much introduction. But here they are, playing a selection of songs from their self-titled album, Lipstick Fever!”

The crowd roared, lights flashing. The band walked onto the stage, arms in the air to whistles and cheers. Madison wore a black fitted waistcoat, paired with wide-legged trousers and, of course, her Docs. Her hair was slicked back, exposing her sharp jawline, her smoky eyeliner making her eyes pop even from the other side of the room.

And for a moment, Madison’s striking beauty made Bonnie forget all the bad in the world.

Kam counted them in, and they dove into their first track. Madison’s hands flew across the fret, the guitar roaring and ringing out across the space. Frank landed each root note, swaying side to side. Kam brought the energy, the snare cracking, cymbals bursting, riffs pounding hard enough to make Bonnie’s ribs tremble with the reverb. And the audience loved it.

When Madison sang, cameras flashed, people cheered, phones waved back and forth. She played up to the attention, ever the frontwoman, engaging and captivating.

Bonnie tried to push Scarlett’s revelation to the back of her mind, to stay in the moment and enjoy Lipstick Fever’s short set. But her thoughts circled back.

Could it really be Bailey?

How many women had he done this to?

She’d lived so long in her own fear; she hadn’t seen the monster in front of her.

Her hair stuck to the back of her neck. She fanned herself, absorbing every wail of the guitar, every beat from the kick drum landing beneath her ribs. Bonnie straightened, finding her strength—Madison’s voice clear in her ears.

Bailey wasn’t going to get away with this.

When their final song was met with applause, Bonnie whistled, cheering at the top of her lungs. Then she slipped behind Scarlett to splash her face and neck in the bathroom. She’d let Madison soak in the moment, the energy, answer the journalists’ questions, and then she’d take her aside, and they’d come up with a plan. Together.

Bonnie pushed her hair to the side, wet her hands and pressed them to the back of her neck, sighing at the cool relief. She wiped the smudged mascara from her eyes, checked her dress wasn’t riding up anywhere it shouldn’t, and stepped out into the hallway.

A giant strobe light rolled across the floor; music pumped loud from the speakers. Now the party would really begin.

Bonnie yelped as a strong hand gripped her wrist. Aftershave burnt her nose.

“You ungrateful bitch.”

Bonnie yelled, “Get off me!”

Bailey’s wide eyes and thin, dishevelled hair gave a wild look about him. “You think you can fire me? After everything I did for you.” He pushed her against the wall. Alcohol clung to his breath.

Bonnie peeled back his fingers with her free hand. “Bailey, stop it.”

But he tightened his hold, nails digging into her skin. “You’d be nothing without me. All of your success is because of me.”

“No, actually, it’s because of me.” She shoved him hard, and he stumbled back. Sweat seeped through his shirt. White dusted the hair of his nostrils. “You don’t write the music or sing the songs. You sit around and call the shots. I could get a thousand managers like you—a thousand that would be better.”

A shark-like grin split his mouth. “Without me, the label will drop you like a stone.”

“So be it. I don’t want to work with them anymore. I don’t want to work with anyone who knows exactly the kind of man you are and doesn’t do anything to stop it.” She pinned him with her gaze, breathing heavily. “Is it true? Was it you?”

He took a step back, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.”

His stare narrowed, brows pinching. Suddenly, this wasn’t just her frustrating, incompetent manager, but a dangerous and unpredictable man who had hurt people, spiked people. Maybe even been the one to do it to her. At the very least, he might have known about it.

Sharks swam in the same circles.