Page 89 of Before the Encore

“Lighten up.” Bailey tapped at his phone screen, sunglasses shading his eyes. “We’ve gotta keep hitting those numbers. Keep things fresh.”

Tap. Tap-tap. Tap. Each sound pecked inside Bonnie’s brain. She ground her teeth together.

“You’ve seen the success with Lipstick Fever,” he continued, itching his nose with a big sniff. “Trust me. Do as I say, and we’ll be alright, kid.”

Her eyes narrowed at the usage. Naomi’s mouth curled, and they shared a glance. A challenge hidden beneath those long lashes.

Indecision warred within her. Her body ached from rehearsal all week. The new lift was particularly challenging, and instead of resting, Bailey had filled the time with teenagers asking her to define slang words and choose her favourite condiment. Her tired limbs just wanted rest; her brain craved quiet. The need to bite her tongue, to bend, to please, reared. She didn’t want to cause a fuss; she just wanted to go home.

But she was also tired in a different way. And that swallowed the other feelings and took centre stage.

“Bailey, can I have a word?” When he gestured to sit at the table, Bonnie clarified with a glance at Naomi. “Alone.”

Naomi turned to him, eyebrows straining against her smooth face. Bailey nodded, his thumb scrolling his phone screen. And she stomped off in a huff, back to her boys, heels clacking against the tile.

Bonnie spoke before the fear overrode her. “I’m not going to do any more interviews with Keelon. Certainly not any prank videos.” She blew out a breath. There. She said it.

Bailey didn’t look up.

She shifted, refusing to sit. The anger swirled in her stomach with every flick of his eyelids across the screen. “It’s already a done deal,” he clipped, flipping his phone face down on the table with a bang. “That’s what you pay me for.”

Bonnie flinched at the noise but kept her spine straight. “I want to do things that matter.”

“And I want Scarlett Johansson to read me bedtime stories, but let’s get real.” He laughed, the sound short and slicing into her ribs. “Don’t go getting any more silly ideas.”

“I don’t think I have silly ideas.”

“And that’s why I’m here. You don’t know what’s best for yourself.” He removed his sunglasses to dab his sweaty forehead with a napkin. “You really think you’d be having this success if it wasn’t for me?”

Bonnie’s heart dropped.

He cast the damp napkin aside and fixed his wild stare on her. “I’m the reason you’re still in this industry. If you did what you wanted, you’d still be that third-place singer from The Pop Factor. Forgotten. Singing sad songs in pubs that no one listens to while they drink cheap G&Ts and gossip about their husbands.”

Heat surged into her cheeks. “But—”

“No,” he interrupted. “When you pull stunts like you did in London, playing a boring acoustic song instead of the full choreographed version, it hurts our brand.”

So, this is my punishment.

Bonnie blinked, her voice small. “I’m not just a brand, Bailey.”

“Yes. You are.” He stabbed a finger in her direction. “You don’t even know how lucky you are. You think they were queuing up? Not a lot of managers took on bigger girls like you, especially the state you were in.” His gaze narrowed. “And you repay me by going behind my back and making me look like a fool in front of the label.”

“It was one song, Bailey. And the crowd loved it.”

He snorted. “They loved the novelty of it. That’s all.” The chair scraped back along the floor as he stood, towering over her. “And that staged kiss—you just cost us a lot of money.” He slapped his hand on the table, rattling the porcelain. “Anything you do, you run it by me first. It reflects badly on me, and I don’t take kindly to being blindsided.”

What I do reflects badly on him?

Bonnie’s pulse thumped hard in her neck. There was so much she could say, but none of the words would come out. She was frozen, immobilised by his anger.

The idea that she’d stage a kiss with Madison for the brand’s benefit squeezed something in her chest. He didn’t own her. This was her life. Her music. If she wanted to sing one of her songs the way she wanted, he would have to get used to that.

Bailey smirked, running a hand over his combover. She couldn’t let him win.

“The kiss wasn’t staged. I don’t care about the money. I meant it.”

But that only made his smirk widen. “And you think she did?” He shook his head, slipping on his sunglasses. “Then you really are naïve, kid.” He waved over Bonnie’s shoulder. Scarlett came trotting out of the café, phone still pressed to her ear, her lipstick faded to just a stain. She gave Bonnie a forced smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Bailey leaned in closer, his aftershave smothering. “You sing the songs. I’ll handle the rest. Go on now, don’t be late for rehearsal.”