Page 27 of Before the Encore

“Don’t you ever do anything just because?” Madison rolled her eyes. “Must it always come with a scientific explanation?”

She narrowed her gaze at Madison’s mocking tone. “I’m not sorry for taking care of myself. You’d be lucky to make it to forty with your lifestyle.”

“My lifestyle?” Madison laughed, trying to pick up a maki roll with her chopsticks. With a frustrated grunt, she stabbed it, shoving it between her lips.

“You’re like a baby,” Bonnie scolded, holding up her chopsticks. “Like this. Hold one like a pencil, then straighten those fingers, and slide the other chopstick in.” She clicked the ends together. “See?”

Madison studied Bonnie’s hand, copying the posture. The chopsticks tumbled, clattering to the table. “Fuck, this is impossible.”

Bonnie bit back a laugh. “Here.” She reached across the table, taking Madison’s hand. She flinched at the cold touch, surprised by the soft of her palms. Madison scowled but let Bonnie manipulate her movement, straightening and bending her long fingers until the chopsticks sat in place. With her hand over Madison’s, she pinched a tuna roll and brought it to Madison’s lips, ignoring the hot tingle that spread through her navel at the sight of her tongue inside.

She swallowed, withdrawing her hand. “There. Now you try.”

Madison’s frown lines deepened. Her broad hands flexed, veins winding over the back and running up her toned forearms, disappearing into tattoos. Bonnie caught herself staring and forced her attention to the sushi instead. On the fourth attempt, Madison grasped a roll with the chopsticks, slowly raising it to her lips. It slipped, but she bent, catching it in her mouth before it hit the table.

Bonnie cheered too loud for the sophisticated corner space, drawing a few turned heads. She composed herself, poking a fat eel nigiri. “Good. See? You just need more practice.”

Madison shook her head, speaking with her mouth full. “If I’m hungry, I wanna eat. I’m gonna starve at this rate.”

Laughter burst from Bonnie’s throat, and Madison brightened, a smile curling her lips before she tucked it away.

Madison’s voice lowered, poking with her chopstick. “I’m learning lots about you today.”

Though Madison had said far worse things to Bonnie, her spine still straightened, prickles rising up her neck. “What do you mean?”

She didn’t look up, fingers twitching over the platter. “How competent you are with chopsticks. How much you adore me as a talented musician.” She hesitated. “How little you want to talk about your time on The Pop Factor.”

Bonnie stiffened, then hid it with a sip from her glass of water.

Madison glanced up, chopstick form slipping. “I mean, I get it. I’d be annoyed if people continually brought up a show from years ago. But you really hate it, don’t you? Why?”

Bonnie thought the interview portion of the day was over. Luckily, her responses were so engrained in her, the muscle memory flexed. “I’m not going to talk about that.”

The comforting corner shrunk smaller, the air suffocating. Even the heater flickered cold. Bonnie’s satisfied belly swirled into nausea as the thumping bassline pounded through her body. Dizziness pressed closer. Forceful hands and whispering voices trying to prise the memory from its depths. She’d been fighting it more recently. She didn’t know if it was the uncertainty, the increased anxiety, or maybe a combination of the two, but the timing was ever inappropriate.

She grabbed the glass firmly, forcing her shaking fingers to still. Not here. Not now. She brought it to her lips, letting the liquid flow down her throat. Only when the glass was drained did she dare look at Madison.

Madison eyed her steadily, something undecipherable behind her gaze. But to Bonnie’s relief, she let it go and started prodding her food again.

The soft music filtered back in, the polite murmur of conversation. Bonnie hoped the paparazzi didn’t catch any of that.

“About what I said,” Madison started again, voice softer. “I’m sorry. It was stupid.”

Her heart pulsed hard against her ribcage. “About what? You say a lot of stupid shit, Madison. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“About the Grammys. The comment I made.”

Oh.

Madison fixed her blue eyes on hers.

But before she could continue, Bonnie’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out. “It’s Bailey. I should take this.”

She’d barely accepted the call before the man erupted into a loud, enthusiastic ramble about the day’s events and meetings with the board. Fans are going bananas. They’re desperate for more. The dizziness returned, disco lights blinking in the back of her mind.

When she hung up the phone a few minutes later, the delicate fairy lights mirrored the twinkling stars of the LA sky. Bailey’s words played on a loop, but the reality didn’t touch her. Not until she turned to Madison, and the words slipped from her mouth.

“The board are happy,” she said, her heart kicking up a notch. “We’re going on tour.”