Page 37 of Before the Encore

Screams filled the venue. Lipstick Fever gathered in a huddle, speaking words lost to the noise. Madison jumped up and down, shaking her long limbs. Bonnie couldn’t help admiring the snug fit of her trousers. She pinched her own thigh. Stop it.

Then, after a final glance towards Bonnie, Madison ran onto the stage. The crowd shouted, and the flickering lights highlighted ecstatic faces in the first rows.

Bonnie adored this part. The energy of the audience. The adrenaline. The way the noise hit like a wave. She’d missed it; nothing came close.

The band took their places, and the screaming grew louder.

“Hello, LA!” Madison called out, slinging her guitar across her front. “We’re Lipstick Fever. And we think you might have heard about us.” She swept across the strings, diving straight into their opening song.

The crowd bobbed their heads as the band leapt to life. In her peripheral, Kam rocked her head and Frank’s ponytail swung, but Bonnie’s attention stayed fixed on the frontwoman. Under the stage lights, Madison’s fingers flew across the fretboard, leaning into every note as it wailed through the speakers. Vibrations reverberated under Bonnie’s feet, her chest, and into her bones.

When Madison stepped up to the microphone, spotlight catching in her dark hair, she held the whole room in her hands. “Baby, where’ve you been?” Madison sang, raising the hairs along Bonnie’s arms. “I’ve been waiting, and I haven’t heard anything.” Raspy and clear, her voice carried over the heavy drums. Madison’s hands flew over the strings, energy pouring out of her.

Bonnie tapped her feet.

When the chorus hit, Bonnie was fully lost in the music, or more accurately, in Madison. She tried to watch the rest of the band, but her eyes always found Madison again. The way her entire body moved with the beat. Those confident hands shifting over the frets. And that voice…Bonnie had heard her in the studio. But hearing her live, witnessing her command the stage like she owned this and every single stage in existence…

Madison lived and breathed the music. She still believed in the power of that, the simplicity, without all the obstacles of fame. Bonnie leaned into the sound, the tension slipping away.

She forced her gaze over the audience, and the last of her nervous energy lifted. They jumped around, a sea of bodies, singing along. They loved it. Holy shit. They loved it. Music connected everybody in this room, the vibrations echoing, stretching. It was always about the music. Sometimes that got lost among the stresses and money and props and paparazzi. If one fan connected with her on that stage, that was enough. And Bonnie was going to put on an amazing show.

“Bonnie.” Kelsie appeared beside her, no smile, all efficiency. “Are you ready for your vocal warmups?”

Madison jumped across the stage, guitar slung low as she tore up a solo. Her hair fell across her eyes, the muscles in her arms taut as she strummed. Traitorous heat slipped below Bonnie’s navel. The raw talent, the contour of her arms…She swallowed. Bonnie didn’t want to miss a thing.

Without breaking her gaze, she replied, “Yes, thank you. I’ll start now.”

She turned away, and Bonnie finally understood the complex fascination with Madison Moore.

* * *

Back in the dressing room, vocal warmups complete and ample water drunk, Bonnie eyed her reflection again. Hannah touched up her make-up, and her hair fell in glossy waves past her shoulders. She inhaled, exhaled, her sequin body suit sculpted to her like a second skin. Pink and purple glittered, and when the light hit it just right, scattered rainbow shimmers across the room. She only had two outfit changes with this set, but this was easily her favourite.

She met her gaze in the mirror. “You’re Bonnie fucking Bloom,” she said, in a tone that sounded awfully similar to Madison.

In the hallway, Kelsie escorted her past the dancers, stretching and triple checking their matching black costumes. Bonnie smiled at them, wished them luck, and headed to the side stage for her earpiece. Celebration and laugher echoed from Lipstick Fever’s dressing room, no doubt riding the high from their incredible set. She’d congratulate them later; she had her own show to do.

Energy buzzed through her veins, anticipation humming beyond the walls.

“Two minutes to show,” Kelsie announced, then to Bonnie. “You ready?”

She nodded, the familiar thrill itching underneath her skin. “See you after.”

“Good luck.”

Crew led her beneath the stage, avoiding rigs and cables, footsteps barely audible over the crowd. She reached the hidden platform, the metallic tang of heated circuits and electronics mingling with the musty pyrotechnics as the crew made their final checks.

“Standby,” Kelsie said into her ear.

She rolled her shoulders and sucked in a deep breath, filling her lungs. Nerves sharpened into adrenaline, her heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of the intro as it filtered into her earpiece. It starts now. Everything had led to this.

The mechanics hissed. The platform raised. Lights blinded her as the fans rose to a deafening roar, and the heat of the spotlight kissed her skin.

Showtime.

Chapter Ten

Madison