Page 23 of Before the Encore

All Madison needed was a cherry Slurpee and some spicy Takis.

And maybe some better company.

* * *

Madison sank into the soft leather of Bonnie’s chauffeur car, her cheeks burning from the free champagne. She clapped her hands together. “So, what’s next? A fancy after party where we romantically brush elbows or exchange embroidered handkerchiefs?”

Bonnie rested her head back, closing her eyes. “We’re not going to the after party.”

“What? I know your mate’s film was a bit of a drag. The surprise twin reveal was terrible.” She scoffed. “Along with that fake English accent. But surely, the after party is where it’s at?”

“We only prepped for the premiere.”

“So?”

“So?” Bonnie sat upright. “We do what we’re told, and that’s it.”

“Why?”

Bonnie balked, shaking her head. “Because, Madison, if we don’t do what we’re supposed to, this could blow up in both our faces. And even if I wanted to attend the after party—which I don’t—the idea of babysitting you to make sure you don’t do anything stupid with another woman isn’t high on my list of fun ideas.”

“Oh, please. I’d love to know what a goody two-shoes like yourself does for fun. Knitting?” She quirked an eyebrow. “Flower arranging? Making fridge magnets?”

Bonnie looked away. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

An awkward quiet filled the car. The tyres rumbled beneath them as the AC hissed. Passing streetlights fell over the interior in a golden glow. Madison’s stomach pinched, sensing she’d crossed a line. Where were Kam and Frank when she needed them?

Play nice, she reminded herself.

“Look, I’m sorry.” She sighed. “But we should go to this party. How often can you say you’re in the same room as Margot Robbie and Billie Eilish? And besides, won’t Kacey Kristie be expecting you to go?”

Minnie’s indicator ticked as they slowed at a red light. Bonnie’s voice came quiet and tired. “No.”

“I thought you were friends?”

“She’s not my friend. Not really.” Bonnie folded her hands in her lap, her gaze pinned out the window, though there was nothing to look at but darkness. “She’s a celebri-friend, a mutually beneficial connection. A ‘valuable contact’.” She punctuated with her fingers, then turned to look at Madison. “Don’t you realise it yet? So much of this industry is fake. Even me and you.”

Madison leaned back, letting herself look beneath Bonnie’s perfect make-up and styled hair. The quiet, faraway look in her eyes, the stillness in her smile.

Bonnie sighed. “When you’ve been in the industry as long as me, you’ll understand. It’s exhausting. Pressure comes from all sides; you don’t know who to trust, and everyone has an opinion on you. It’s easier to keep to yourself sometimes.”

The words struck Madison. That feeling…it echoed around her too. People heard her name, saw the stories about her, and assumed the worst. Even her own mother. The reality was a lot different, but nobody cared to ask. They’d already made up their minds.

An unexpected sadness sank into her chest. Who knew they’d have something in common?

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Bonnie lifted her shoulders. “It’s better than being in a room full of people who’d stab you in the back for a front cover story.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Her words lingered. Madison pulled at the collar of her shirt, feeling hot. “I meant what I said to you, you know. You can trust me.”

“Yeah, right.”

Their gazes locked. As Bonnie studied her, peeling back a layer, her heart hit a rhythm she couldn’t control. What did she see when she looked at her?

Then Bonnie blew out a breath, dispersing the moment. She adjusted the satin draped over her knee. “Anyway, our absence from the party works perfectly for our narrative. It’ll be assumed that we’ll be going back to one of our houses.”

Madison grinned. “Now you’re talking,” she teased.