Page 2 of Before the Encore

“To dip in here?” Kamaria mimed the action with the tip of her long, black braids. “You know, like a biscuit?”

“Biscuit? You mean a cookie?”

If Bonnie wasn’t already annoyed by this waste of time in her schedule, she would’ve found the perplexed look on Scarlett’s face entertaining. Instead, the whole thing continued to aggravate her, including the sound of everyone’s voices.

“She means a British chocolate biscuit,” Bonnie snapped, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. “Hobnobs, digestives, bourbons—and no, there’s no American equivalent. Their biscuit-making capacities are severely lacking, and they call them all cookies for some strange reason. Trust me, you do not want to try what they call biscuits over here.”

Bonnie missed everything McVitie’s made, now that she lived in LA.

The room fell into a stunned silence.

Bonnie looked up from her hands to find all three watching her with surprise. “They eat them with gravy. But not our kind of gravy. It’s…weird.”

Frank’s face pinched, whilst Kamaria looked on with dreamy intrigue. “I like gravy,” she said.

Where did Bailey find these people?

Muffled voices from the hallway drew their attention. The clunk of footsteps echoed, followed by the hoot of Bailey’s obnoxious laugh. When the door swung open, Bailey burst in with his arm around Madison’s shoulders, deep in a fit of laughter.

Bonnie cast daggers at them. How dare they laugh and joke after keeping her waiting?

Another man hurried into the room after them, visibly sweating, his shaved head reflecting the overhead lights. He shot her a panicked look before wiping his hand on his dirty blue jeans. “Miss Bloom.” He offered his hand, which she took reluctantly. “I’m so sorry for the wait. I’m Lipstick Fever’s manager, Roberto. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I trust Kam and Frank kept you company?” He tugged at his shirt collar. Matted black curls poked out beneath. “Wow. LA is hot, right?”

Bonnie hummed a non-response. Her new album had to be a success. How could Bailey possibly think a track featuring this band would be a good idea? She wouldn’t trust them to run a bath without flooding the place. How could she trust them with something so important?

And then there was Madison. Her own band and manager couldn’t even keep track of her.

Bonnie scowled at her. Dressed in all black, Madison sported an undercut, her dark hair pulled into a small bun. She’d walked into the room like she’d owned the place and still hadn’t acknowledged Bonnie—or apologised for being late.

Once his laughter died down, Bailey slapped Madison on the back and ran a hand over his brown combover.

“Now we’re all here, Scarlett will get your refreshments, then let’s sit and talk business.”

Bonnie scrunched her nose as the weight of his sickly aftershave smothered the room. What was there to talk about? He couldn’t be serious about working with these amateurs—fellow Brits or not.

“Coffee and milk for me, please, darling. A sugar too.” Madison cast a flirty smile at Scarlett. “I have a little sweet tooth.”

Scarlett giggled, chest blushing and matching the colour of her blouse. “Coming right up. What can I get you, sir?”

“The usual.”

“Anything else for you, Miss Bloom?”

Bonnie gritted her teeth. How many times did she have to tell her to stop calling her that? Was she the only competent one in the room? “No,” she snapped, a little harsher than she intended.

As Scarlett trotted into the kitchenette, Bailey rubbed his hands together. “I have a great feeling about this.”

Bonnie shook her head. How? Her gaze found Madison again, burning into her back as she wandered the room, taking in the different photographs and achievements hanging on the wall. Her achievements. Anger ticked in her chest, deeper with every passing second. How had she still not acknowledged her?

Madison had a reputation, but Bonnie knew as much as anyone how untrustworthy the media was. She wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, to trust her manager’s instincts that this connection, this push out of her comfort zone, would be the boost they needed to ensure the new album’s success.

But Bonnie had more faith in her sixth sense, the one pulsing beneath her skin. The one screaming that this was a terrible idea.

I mean, just look at her!

Nothing about the woman’s aesthetic fit the Bonnie Bloom image. Bonnie’s music was upbeat and uplifting, with the odd power ballad to showcase her range. Her fans praised her unapologetic curves and energetic shows with sharp choreography. She took pride in her appearance and what people thought of her.

Madison, on the other hand, with her smudged black eyeliner and dark tattoos snaking the length of her arms, more closely resembled the demons from Bonnie’s nightmares than a musician she’d work with.