Page 5 of Before the Encore

“He’s doing it again,” Kam murmured, shooting a raised eyebrow at Madison.

“Maybe he’s finally losing the plot,” she agreed.

“Is it any wonder? Trying to keep you out of trouble is worse than babysitting my three nephews.” He shivered, then pulled a tissue out of his pocket to dab at his sweaty forehead. “Apart from you, Frank. You’re a pleasure to work with.”

Frank nodded. “Thanks, boss.”

“Suck-ass,” Madison teased.

Roberto sighed, exasperated, and Madison laughed. Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her knees.

“You’re telling me you really want to work with an arrogant arse like Jonjoe Bailey? He’d sell you down the river for as little as a Tic Tac.” She quirked an eyebrow. “And Little Miss Perfect? Anyone that makes people call her Miss Bloom must have trouble going to the toilet with such a giant stick up their arse. All of this…it isn’t us, Roberto.” She took another sip of her coffee. Damn, it really was good.

He scratched at his long, dark sideburns. “You want to make it big, right? To break through that glass ceiling above your heads? To travel the world, playing your music?”

“We’ve done that,” she argued, shooting a glance at her bandmates. If they agreed with her, they could overturn this before it was too late. But Kam fixed her hooded eyes on the table, bobbing her head to an imaginary beat. Frank gazed at Roberto like he’d hung the moon in the sky.

Suck-ass.

“As a support act, yes. But don’t you want to be the headline? To sell packed-out venues with fans that are there to see you, Lipstick Fever?” Roberto quirked a bushy eyebrow. “I’m talking a worldwide tour. Not just Europe, but the US, Australia, Asia—you name it. We wouldn’t have to win a competition to play on a shitty stage when you are the stars, the reason people buy tickets in the first place.”

Her heart beat hard against her chest, drumming up an electric feeling that flickered over her skin. Curse him for appealing to her ego.

The band had been six long years in the making. They’d gone from Frank’s mum’s garage to the local pubs to playing at Leeds Festival. But Roberto was right; despite touring with some notable bigger bands, it wasn’t enough. They still hadn’t had that key breakthrough yet.

Getting to play her music across the world…fans singing her lyrics back to her…it was what she’d worked so hard for while juggling two shitty jobs and playing unpaid gigs every spare hour in between, all on no sleep. They’d put their blood, sweat, and tears into their music. Clawed their way from the bottom to get where they were now. Was the top really within reach?

And would it be worth swallowing her pride to work with Bonnie Bloom? Someone who wouldn’t know real music if it smacked her in her stupid, pouting face.

Madison rubbed her hand along her chin. “I don’t know, Roberto. It’s too good to be true.”

“We’re in the music business. It’s not just about talent and hard work; it’s about who you know. The connections you make.” He pointed the rolled-up magazine at all three of them. “We are lucky to be sitting in this room. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Pull yourself together and stop being such a bitch for once,” Frank said, casting her a glare. “We could have a shot here.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” She leaned back in her seat and turned to Kam. “What do you think?”

She shrugged. “If we made it this far, we might as well go for it. It was a long flight.”

“If this collaboration works, it could be life changing.” Roberto’s green eyes burned into hers, alight with the unhinged fire and belief that only their manager possessed. “This crossover with Bonnie has the potential to gain significant reach, boosting backing and attracting investors, on the sort of scale that an indie label like Neon Fist could only dream of. Tapping into her queer community would be striking a gold mine.” A wide, toothy grin spread across his face. “Madison, if this works, our whole lives could change overnight.”

She hummed. “Sounds like a lot of ifs to me.”

He laughed, short and deep. “You’re telling me Madison Moore doesn’t like a little risk?” He unfurled the magazine and threw it on the table with a thunk.

The sound hung in the air. The man had a point.

“Okay.” She finished the last of her coffee and set it down, the lukewarm dregs pleasantly sweet. “Fine.”

Roberto regarded her like a startled horse about to bolt at any second. “Fine?”

“Yep. I’m in.”

“Great.” He nodded. “But, Madison, you can’t—”

The door swung open, and Bailey returned, Bonnie trailing his heels like a scolded puppy.

She couldn’t help but feel smug about their conversation. Judging by the woman’s defeated posture and pout, it hadn’t gone her way. Madison smirked. If anyone was going to get the upper hand out of this arrangement, it was going to be her.