Page 4 of Before the Encore

“You can’t be serious about this,” Bonnie started.

“You don’t like her?”

“That’s an understatement.” She scoffed. “She was late, and she’s rude and a complete and utter liability!”

He smirked. “I know she’s a little unconventional—”

“A little?”

He raised his eyebrows. “But…you can’t deny she has a certain…pizzazz.”

She sighed, the weight of the day sinking into her bones. “Bailey, this album is important to me. I don’t want to gamble it on someone who clearly doesn’t appreciate my music or the message behind it.”

“I know, kid.”

She narrowed her eyes at the usage. She wasn’t eighteen anymore; she was almost thirty, for crying out loud.

Bailey continued, “That’s the reason we need to take this risk. We need to do something to give this album an edge. A lift. Something to appease the board. If we don’t get the numbers, then…”

Her manager’s silence spoke volumes. He didn’t need to fill in the gaps; she’d been in some of the label’s meetings herself.

Bonnie had to prove herself a worthy investment, needed to demonstrate that she could keep up with the new pop acts rising every week. Yes, her fourth album hadn’t performed as well as it could, but if she’d survived the unfortunate emerging of a controversial porn star bearing a similar name, surely, she could survive this. She’d be fine. If the board would let her do more ballads and more acoustic material, she knew her fans would love it. But that was another thing Bonnie hated about showbiz.

She never got the final say.

“I know.” She let her gaze wander the hall before settling back on her manager, trying to avoid looking at his terrible brown combover. It didn’t suit him; it drew too much attention to his abnormally large forehead. She sighed. “There’s no one else, though? Why Lipstick Fever? Can’t we cast our net in some bigger, less frustrating ponds? Literally, anyone else.”

Bailey huffed then, his nostrils flaring. “We’re past that point now. They’re on the up. People are interested. And whether you like her or not, Madison has a fantastic set of pipes on her. Fuck me, that girl can sing.”

Bonnie frowned at the praise, crossing her arms over her chest.

He softened a smidge, tilting his head in that sympathetic way that made her want to take off her high heel and jab him in the eye with it. “I know it’s been a tough year, sweetheart. But it’s only a few days in the studio, and then you’re done. Do you think you can handle that?”

A few minutes with Madison Moore had proven testing enough. Truthfully, Bonnie wasn’t sure she could handle a few days with her, never mind in a confined space.

But what choice did she have?

So, she sighed, unease gurgling in her stomach. “Fine, but this better be worth it, Bailey.”

Chapter Two

Madison

“Jesus. She’s intense.” Madison blew out a breath, sending ripples along the top of her coffee.

“What are you playing at?” Frank hissed. “Are you trying to ruin this for us?”

She sipped her drink, the heat slipping down her throat. Damn, that’s good. She could get used to all these fancy coffees; it was a shame they came at a price. “Come on, gang. It’s time to admit the joke. We managed to infiltrate the lair of a corporate puppet—score for us—convinced them that working with us would be a great idea—ding ding—all to turn around and laugh in their face. Cue the embarrassment, confetti, and streamers. Right, Roberto?”

But her manager grimaced, fanning himself with a magazine he’d plucked from the table. “You know that’s not why we’re here, Madison.”

His attempt to scold her tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“Don’t give me that look,” he warned, the pages flapping back and forth. “Why is it so freakin’ hot in here?”

“I think it’s a bit on the chilly side.” Kamaria swirled her empty glass, then tipped the last dregs of the chocolate milk into her open mouth.

Roberto pointed the magazine at her. “Don’t get me started on you, either. Chocolate milk? Stinking of weed?” He rolled up the magazine and whacked it against his forehead. “It’s almost as if none of you listen to a word I say. I’m only the manager. The one person who actually knows what they’re doing here. Why listen to me? Roberto knows nothing. Silly old Roberto.”