Hollywood Heartbreak

by C. J. Duggan

  I hooked the bag over my wrist and stood there ever so awkwardly. How can you possibly wrap up a night like this? Thanks for the lift, thanks for saving me from drowning, thanks for the mind-blowing orgasm. It was clear that he wasn’t going to break the ice; he was having way too much fun watching the cogs turn in my brain, seeing how I was going to make my move. So I did it in a very roundabout way.

  ‘Thanks for the chilli. Might need a little more salt next time,’ I said, measuring it with my fingers and spinning on my heel, strutting through the condo towards the front door.

  Jay followed me. I tried not to smile when he moved past me and grabbed the handle of the front door. ‘You know that chilli was perfect.’

  I pushed my hair over my shoulder. ‘It was … nice.’

  ‘Nice?’ Jay folded his arms across his broad chest; his tone incredulous.

  ‘Yeah, nice,’ I said, stretching past him and opening the door, forcing him to move aside.

  ‘Ah, yeah, but the thing is …’ he began.

  I paused in the breezeway, turning to look at him expectantly.

  Jay smiled, broad and wicked. ‘Would you come back for seconds?’

  My own smile faltered because I was pretty sure we weren’t talking about chilli anymore. So instead of giving a clear-cut answer I breathed out and left him hanging. ‘Maybe,’ I said, turning to make the last steps towards my door, almost home free, until Billie turned the corner.

  I skidded to a halt, my eyes snapping from her shocked state back to Jay, then to the T-shirt I was standing half-naked in, and back again to Billie.

  Sprung!

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  My instinct was to blurt out, ‘It’s not what it looks like.’

  But of course that would have been a lie, because it was exactly what it looked like, and if I was hoping for any form of backup from Jay, well, I’d be sorely disappointed. He didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed or panicked, leaning in the doorway without a care in the world.

  ‘How was work?’

  Was he serious?

  Billie seemed rather taken aback too, and clearly uncomfortable, moving to her door and averting eye contact.

  ‘Good,’ she said.

  ‘Any dramas?’

  ‘Nope.’

  Oh God, this was painful. I was stuck in the breezeway, not knowing what to do or say. I just wished that Billie would hurry up and open the bloody door. While I was keen to get inside, she did not seem happy at all.

  ‘Goodnight, you two.’ Jay said, but his eyes were on me until he closed the door. It was enough of a look to have my lady-bits clenching and want to follow him back into his condo but, seeing Billie rip open her door and throwing her things on the side table, I realised I would have to do some damage control.

  I followed her inside, closing the door behind us. ‘Are you mad at me?’

  Billie opened the fridge and grabbed a water bottle and, instead of answering, she guzzled cold water until she had a brain freeze. ‘Son of a bitch!’ she said, clenching her temple, letting the door shut and plunge us into darkness.

  I moved to the lounge room and switched on the light. ‘Did you have a bad night?’ I asked, trying for a supportive, ‘let’s focus on you’ tone.

  ‘No, actually, I was having a great night … until I got home.’ She looked at me pointedly.

  Aaaaand here we go.

  ‘Look, Billie …’

  ‘No, you look! I don’t get you; one minute you can’t stand the guy and the next minute you’re hooking up with him? What happens when it all goes to shit, Abby? Seriously, of all the people, it had to be with my neighbour, my boss?’

  ‘It’s not like that, and besides, it’s not going to affect you; I’d never let anything I do interfere with your life.’

  ‘You’ve been in town for five minutes; I’ve lived here for three years and I haven’t even moved beyond second base.’

  I wasn’t exactly sure what base I got to tonight but it definitely felt like a home run.

  ‘That’s because you don’t put yourself out there: you work, you come home and you work.’

  Billie scoffed. ‘It’s called the real world, Abby.’

  I was a little taken aback, hurt even. ‘Oh, right, because I live in fantasy land, is that what you’re saying?’

  Billie rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t twist my words.’

  ‘But that’s what you’re implying.’

  Billie simply stared back at me. Now I was starting to get angry.

  ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but I didn’t sleep with Jay; we kissed. The reason I’m wearing his top is because my clothes got wet.’

  I thought it best to leave out details like raging vanity orgasm and falling into the pool; after all, I didn’t want to get her any more riled up.

  ‘I met some really cool people tonight, made some new non–LA Family connections, thanks to Jay, one in particular that I think will excite you,’ I said, rummaging through my plastic bag for my clutch, and retrieving the wet and slightly smudged business card. I handed it over to her. ‘They’re looking for an experienced make-up artist at the Star Network. I said you’d give them a call.’

  Billie’s eyes skimmed over the business card before looking back at me; it was like she thought I was pulling a prank.

  ‘You’re welcome. And look at it this way: at least Jay and I are getting along.’ And with that, I walked away.

  My fight with Billie haunted me, making me toss and turn until daybreak. I lay flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, my head pounding, my stomach churning, my eyes puffy from lack of sleep. On top of all that sat the weight of my dread at meeting Ziggy today. Usually this was something I looked forward to, but this time there was so much riding on her visit.

  She was flying all the way to talk business and discuss my future prospects, and what did I have to show her? I was hungover, motley orange, with a barely functioning American accent in prep for one of the biggest auditions of my life. The one thing that frightened me more than anything was disappointing Ziggy. I had done it once before in my younger years; having slept in, I’d missed a really important magazine interview, and the aftermath had seen me bear the full brunt of Ziggy’s disappointment. She’d threatened to drop me if I didn’t pull my head in; it had been a huge step forward in my maturation.

  Now, after being left to my own devices, I felt like I was right back where I started. Same shit, different location. There was no way of sugarcoating my bloodshot eyes, or the feeling of wanting to be sick from a hangover so epic I didn’t know if I could claw my way out of bed, let alone meet for a luncheon with Ziggy.

  I’d hoped to see Billie and clear the air before I left to make me feel better, but instead of finding her in her usual place, whirling around the kitchen and cooking up a storm, her bedroom door was firmly shut and there was no sign of life. There was that same empty feeling when I stepped out into the breezeway, where the hopeless romantic side of my brain wished that Jay’s door might open, that he would offer me a cup of coffee and a friendly face. But there was nothing there to greet me, just memories from last night’s awkwardness.

  All of a sudden, despite my nausea and aversion to sunlight, I was actually glad to get away for a bit. Avoid Billie, avoid Jay and just concentrate on my career. I didn’t know why I was so nervous about seeing Ziggy; I had done everything she had asked. Signed up for acting lessons, met with my voice coach, learnt my lines, prepped as much as I could. Hell, I had even met up with Sienna and networked, so yes, my groundwork was sound. I was doing good. Lots of positivity, I thought, no matter how clammy and bilious I felt about being trapped on a stuffy public bus, trying to listen to the calming sound of The War on Drugs filtering through my earplugs and concentrate less on where I was, and more on where I was going.

  I had to hand it Ziggy: she never did anything by half-measures. When she came to town she really came to town, opting to stay and play at the LA icon that was the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel. Named for Pres
ident Theodore Roosevelt, the hotel had welcomed generations of VIPs, from the legends of Hollywood’s Golden Age to today’s hottest stars.

  Arriving early, I wandered throughout the property, classic architecture meeting contemporary design in warm tones and rich textures. From the moment I stepped into its Spanish Colonial-style lobby, I was surrounded by Hollywood history. Ziggy had told me the first Academy Awards were presented at a private dinner in the hotel’s Blossom Ballroom – the winners were announced three months before the ceremony, which took just fifteen minutes. Clark Gable and Carole Lombard carried on their infamous affair in the penthouse, which cost $5 a night. Marilyn Monroe lived at the hotel for two years as her modelling career began to take off – she was staying in one of the cabanas at the time of her first professional magazine shoot, which took place at the Hollywood Roosevelt pool.

  Ziggy was staying in the Marilyn Monroe Suite; she was never ashamed to boast about her personal obsession with all things Marilyn. I had researched the accommodation myself and I had desperately wanted Ziggy to stay in the Gable-Lombard Penthouse, just so I could experience for myself a 3200-square-foot duplex with an outdoor deck tucked beneath the Roosevelt’s iconic sign. The suite boasted spectacular views of the Hills and the Hollywood Sign, but of course Ziggy was adamant: it was the Marilyn suite or nothing.

  We were to meet at the Public Kitchen & Bar, a luxurious vintage-style dining room with leather banquettes and gilt chandeliers, offset by a living wall of succulents and a historic mural that was uncovered during renovation – or so the waiter claimed when he noticed me admiring it.

  ‘Have you been here before?’

  ‘Ah, no,’ I said, desperately trying to avert my attention from the bar, where a long line of glossy, well-lit alcohol bottles taunted me, instantly turning my stomach.

  ‘Well, if you’re looking for a recommendation you might like to start with an assortment of charcuterie, artisanal cheeses and house-made preserves, then tuck into some hearty meats and inventive seafood dishes.’ The man smiled brightly, but I really wasn’t in the mood for happy and helpful, I was in survival mode – and desperate for the fried stuff.

  ‘Thanks, I’ll just wait for my friend,’ I said with a weak smile, thinking how hot it was. Was there a fireplace blazing somewhere? I rubbed my clammy hands on my legs, observing how everyone seated around me seemed relaxed and comfortable. I was definitely in The Horrors – of all days, what had I been thinking, to go out last night? I massaged my temples, contemplating whether to be sick now or after lunch. It was a very important decision, but one that was taken away from me the moment I heard Ziggy’s voice from across the room. ‘There she is!’

  Oh God.

  If there was a hint of silver lining in this cloud it was that she wouldn’t be able to accuse me of being pale; my underlying post-hangover green would be tinted by the tan. Of course, I wasn’t sure it was any more flattering. I was about to find out, watching as Ziggy strutted a long, determined line to the table. I stood to brace myself for the crushing hug I knew was coming, which wouldn’t aid my bruising from last night’s antics.

  ‘Oh, Abby, it’s so good to see you, darling. Let me look at you.’

  Oh shit. Please, don’t.

  She stepped back, holding my hands, her smile alight as she examined me; it didn’t take long for the smile to falter.

  ‘Abby, are you unwell?’

  Crap. I didn’t know if honesty was always the best policy, but Ziggy had an excellent bullshit detector, which was not really great for me, considering that I earned my living by acting. Maybe that could be something I could learn in acting classes?

  ‘It’s been a big few weeks, just adjusting and getting my bearings. I caught up with Sienna last night!’ That’s it, Abby, spin it into a positive – mention something she asked you to do.

  ‘Oh, so you’re hungover, then,’ she said, taking her seat opposite me. I sat down in kind, anxiety bubbling under the surface of my crawling skin.

  ‘It was a big night,’ I said, a memory of my head pressed against a vanity mirror surfacing. I slammed the memory down and leant forward, my elbows on the table. ‘I’m not a saint, Ziggy. If I am going to go out and network, chances are there will be drinks and socialising.’

  ‘Yes, and that’s where you will learn how to pick and choose your battles. The LA Family might party hard, but they work hard too. They have jobs that fund their lifestyles – never forget that. Did you want something to drink now?’ she asked, giving me a cheeky glance from the cocktail menu.

  The very thought made me want to dry heave. I knew she was testing me, but I was going to be responsible. ‘Just a water, thanks.’

  Ziggy laughed. ‘No hair of the dog?’

  ‘Not until I’m earning to pay for it,’ I said, showing her I heeded her words, however depressing they were.

  ‘Now, just because you land a job doesn’t mean you can hit it hard, either. It’s all about remaining professional.’

  I wanted to roll my eyes. I wasn’t a complete idiot, I hadn’t got this far by being a loose cannon; compared to some, I was a bloody angel. Taking a deep breath, I realised that Ziggy’s tone was really rather motherly. She was lecturing me because she cared, because she was worried.

  ‘Don’t worry, Zig, I will not get led astray. I know why I’m here and I plan to balance my life.’

  ‘Well, that’s good, because I have a little something for you,’ she said, lifting up a bag I hadn’t even realised she’d carried in.

  ‘Aww, Zig, you shouldn’t ha …’

  I peered inside, my words falling away. No, she really, really shouldn’t have. I reached inside, pulling out the flimsy material.

  ‘Oh, wow. Activewear,’ I said, trying not to sound bitterly disappointed.

  ‘Welcome to LA! There’s also a drink bottle in there.’

  ‘Oh, yay!’

  Ziggy reached for my arm, bringing it to her face and turning my arm from side to side.

  ‘What on earth?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ I said, pulling free from her and putting both hands in my lap. ‘It’s just a spray tan – it will come off.’

  ‘It better come off. You look jaundiced.’

  ‘Oh, wow, Ziggy, cheers. You really build me up, you know,’ I snapped, instantly regretting my words, seeing her eyes lock onto me as if she had misheard me. She had an incredible ability to make me feel tiny, and I instantly wanted to apologise before she went Next Level Zig, as I had seen her do with producers on the phone. It was this ‘other’ Ziggy that had made grown men cry – I had witnessed it.

  Something worse happened – she said nothing, unfolding her napkin and placing it in her lap. Her silence was far more brutal than a lecture, and I really didn’t know where to go from here. All I wanted to do was to get back to normal with Ziggy. She’d always been my rock, my voice of reason, but ever since I moved to LA the conversations had been different; the stakes were higher and I felt like I was in her world now, not mine. This new world was harsher and unlike anything I had ever known. Even if she was using tough love to thicken my skin, I didn’t have to like it.

  ‘So, you met with Ray?’ she asked coolly.

  She was giving me a small reprieve, and I was going to take it with both hands.

  ‘Yes! He has been so helpful, and I booked in with the small theatre group you recommended downtown. I start there on the fifteenth,’ I said brightly, transmitting positive vibes, positive, positive, positive.

  ‘So, hit me with some lines,’ she said, clasping her hands together and looking at me expectantly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘For your audition on Monday – let’s hear them.’

  ‘N-now?’

  ‘As good a time as any.’

  I felt hot again, and I knew that it had nothing to do with my hangover and everything to do with the unbearable weight I felt resting on my shoulders.

  My mouth gaped as my mind went blank – oh shit oh shit oh shit. But like a gift from the h
eavens I was interrupted by the floating, friendly waiter. ‘Ready to order?’

  ‘Yes!’ I said, way too loudly, causing Ziggy to smirk knowingly.

  ‘Well, okay then,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise you were hungry.’

  ‘Starving,’ I lied.

  Ziggy shook her head, re-examining her menu. Yep, she saw through me.

  Utter bullshit.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Despite the rocky start, Ziggy did eventually instil some confidence in me; she had hooked me up for some new headshot shoots, booked a meeting with an agency and a few interviews. The more we spoke about her plans for me, the more I realised just how badly I wanted this role. It was the same kind of yearning I’d had when I auditioned for Ship to Sea; I was born to play Annika just as I was born to play Cassie Carmichael.

  Ziggy smiled, first at the waiter who cleared our plates, mine barely touched, then she turned her sparkly blue gaze to me, listening intently as she clasped her hands under her chin. I had poured my heart out over lunch, bucked up the courage to run some lines and let her know the research I had done, the motivation for the character I was portraying, and how I was willing to inhabit her, mind, body and soul. She belonged to me. I thought my speech might have earned me some kind of recognition, so when Ziggy smiled and said: ‘Honey, you’re going to need a day job.’

  I could have fallen off my chair. ‘What?’

  ‘Look, great, fantastic, you are doing almost all the right things, and I am super impressed with how keen you are for this role, however …’

  Oh, how I hated that word. However.

  ‘This is not Australia and you don’t have a foot in the door anywhere. I can line things up, connect you to the right people, appropriate jobs, and I have few in mind that I’m excited to tell you about, but …’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘You’re going to have to prepare yourself for a lot of rejections.’

  My back straightened. I know this was worst-case scenario stuff, but I wasn’t like that. I had to keep positive – it was the only way I was going to make it through.