Page 50 of Before the Encore

Now, where’s my phone?

With a hot mug of ginger and honey tea, Bonnie found her phone on the loungers outside. Heat warmed her neck at the memory of Madison’s mouth bringing her to climax. The heat spread to her cheeks when she remembered the security camera pinned to the outside wall. It would have recorded everything.

Horror quickly loosened into an ache—hot, velvety, and rippling between her legs. If she wanted to…she could relive it again.

What’s gotten into me? She shook her head, trying to push those thoughts away, and looked out at the ocean, sunlight glinting off the waves. One night with Madison, and I’m already thinking like a sex pest. She breathed in deeply, trying to ground herself. Her morning routine was completely ruined. Instead of yoga, her mind stirred in the gutter. Madison was definitely a bad influence—but a part of Bonnie tingled with approval.

She checked her phone, scrolling through the various notifications and frowning at one in particular.

Olivia had tagged her in a post, showing a selfie of herself and Olsa Rumna—another pop star in their loose circle—from the show last night. She’d sent her a DM too, congratulating her, asking to meet up, showering her with compliments. Olivia sure knew how to charm—and how to turn it off just as quickly when it suited her. She’d said her quick hello last night before the show to appease Bailey. Wasn’t that enough? Unsure how to respond, Bonnie left it unread and clicked on a message from Katy.

Katy: How are you? How was the first show?

We had a dance off with the kids last night to cheer you on *video attached*

Still flying in tomorrow? I’m so excited!!

Bonnie opened the video and laughed. Katy’s two boys jiggled their limbs about to ‘Live Forever’, one of Bonnie’s top hits. Lyra, her youngest of the three, stumbled around in a pink poofy dress, trying to outshine the boys. At the chorus, they jumped and elbowed each other, resulting in a scrap on the kitchen floor. The video ended abruptly with Katy shouting. She really had her hands full.

Bonnie’s thumbs hesitated over the screen, unsure how to answer the first question. Remembering this was her best friend and not a celebri-friend, she answered honestly.

Bonnie: The show was amazing. Afterwards…a bit confusing. I’ll fill you in tomorrow night at your house

Tell the kids their dancing made my day! Can’t wait to see you all

Flying home was a double-edged sword. Catching up with Katy always grounded her, but visiting her mum carried suitcases full of complicated feelings. Guilt. Sadness. Fear. Grief.

She couldn’t think about that now. Her present moment already tested her with a cocktail of unsettling emotions. She sipped at her forgotten tea, barely lukewarm as her gaze shifted over the view. Normally, the quiet and the enormous body of water soothed her. Today, her mind tumbled down into the dark depths, lost in a whirlpool.

Nothing was working. She should ask Madison to go, and then she could start over. Reset. Program her brain for tonight’s show. She blew out a breath and headed back inside, her mug firm in her grip. Inside her bedroom, Madison had rolled onto her back, still snoring. Something about the sight of Madison, draped in Bonnie’s Egyptian cotton sheets softened her. Maybe Madison needed the rest. Even the best of hotels could be uncomfortable when sharing with two other people.

For god’s sake.

Bonnie left Madison sleeping and stomped to the only place that could be her refuge: her music room. Inside, the warm wood panels and pastel colours instantly calmed her. Despite having many other rooms in the house, she probably spent more than half of her time in here. Colourful artwork lined the walls, along with her best-selling albums immortalised in black frames. Neutral-coloured sofas and bean bags provided ample space to lounge and play, while large, towering plants kept the air fresh. Her guitars were displayed on one side of the wall, and she plucked her favourite, a soft pink Gretsch she’d nicknamed Gretchen. Bonnie had more expensive and newer guitars, but this was her first. It brought her the most comfort.

She took her songbook from a drawer and relaxed into the sofa, the guitar resting across her lap. Her fingers skimmed the stickers eleven-year-old Bonnie had lovingly decorated the wood with: quotes from her favourite songs, cute cartoon animals, and flowers.

She closed her eyes, tracing the polished wood, the steel strings, the sweep of gold curved along its body. Just her and her guitar. Back when she’d auditioned for The Pop Factor, that was all she needed. Things had been simpler then. Sometimes she wished she could strip back her songs and sing like this, show her fans the way she intended her songs to be. But the label insisted her music be more upbeat and layered. So, that was that.

Bonnie didn’t want to be ungrateful. She owed the life she lived to the people that made those decisions. But they couldn’t take these moments from her.

She flicked through the songbook, smiling at all the scribbles and marks in the margins. Despite appearances, her songwriting had always been a form of chaos. A short puff of air passed her lips at her most recent brainstorm ‘Fuck Off Madison Moore’. A tingly feeling ran over her sternum as she mentally retitled it ‘I’ve fucked Madison Moore’. She shut the book and pushed it away with her toe.

Her fingers flexed over the fret and picked the strings on instinct. Each vibration thrummed through her as she relaxed into an old favourite. Eyes closed, the notes flowed, and she began to sing ‘Escape’, a song that never made it onto her second album. Too slow and boring, Bailey had said.

“I want to drive my car so fast. Feel the surge of adrenaline before I crash.” The lyrics tightened around her, transporting her back.

She breathed in deep. “Baby, I just wanna run away. Find my haven where I feel safe.” No matter how much time passed, the echoes of that time in her life pressed closer. She remembered every feeling, every lyric as it marked the page. Despite this song emerging from one of the darkest periods of her life, her time after The Pop Factor, it somehow brought her the most comfort.

Maybe because she’d clawed herself from that dark place after years of feeling she would never escape it. She was more resilient than she gave herself credit for. If she could bounce back after that, she could handle this.

Her hand changed rhythm, her voice rising as she entered the chorus. “Take me away. I don’t want to think about this today. Please help me find a way, to truly escape.”

When her fingers slowed, the last notes dispersing into the air, the weight in her limbs lifted.

Then Madison’s voice made her jump. “I’ve not heard you sing like that before.”

The strings rang out where Bonnie’s hand twitched. She stilled them, cradling the guitar to her chest. She turned to where Madison stood in the doorway, and her mouth dropped open. “What are you wearing?”