Hollywood Heartbreak

by C. J. Duggan

Jay’s lips spread into a grin. I felt them move underneath my fingers; the feel of his soft lips against my skin made me shiver. As I slowly moved my hand, the tips of my fingers lingered to gently touch the curve of his lips. I stepped closer to him, my heart racing, caring little that we were standing in the courtyard, or that drops of water were pooling at his feet.

  My hand ran along his strong jawline, touching the light dusting of stubble before my fingers danced down his neck and over his Adam’s apple, which bobbed and strained under my touch. Maybe it was my skin on his, or the summer night air against his damp body, but his skin was prickled with goosebumps, making me smile as I traced his collarbone, looking up at him through heavy lids. Our eyes met, and there were no more sexy smiles, just questions: where to now? Whose move next?

  Jay made it first, stilling my hand, which was moving down along his abs, exploring the dips and rises of his smooth skin. He squeezed my hand so tight that it bordered on pain. I looked up at him, confusion lining my face, increasing when he slowly shook his head. His meaning was crystal-clear.

  No.

  I felt my cheeks blanch as I pulled away, tucking my hair behind my ears. ‘Wow, people warned me there would be rejection in this town, I just never realised how rough it would be,’ I said with half a laugh, trying to look anywhere but at him, ready to run back to my condo. Pre-empting my flight, I felt Jay’s warm grip on my arm as he motioned for me to look at him, placing his fingers under my chin and lifting my face up to look at him.

  ‘It’s not, believe me,’ he breathed out heavily, like it physically pained him to do so. ‘The things I want to do to you …’

  I blinked, utterly confused. ‘Then why?’

  ‘As long as you are under my employment, last night, this,’ he pointed between us, ‘can’t happen again.’

  What?!

  ‘Umm, okay. I guess I should have read the fine print. No sleeping with the boss, got it.’

  ‘It just can’t happen. It’s something I feel really strongly about.’

  I breathed out a laugh. ‘I was so eager to sign on the dotted line, too.’

  ‘If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never wanted to fire someone so much in my life.’

  A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. ‘Then why don’t you?’

  I could see Jay’s jaw clench as he looked down at me, seriously considering it.

  I shrugged. ‘You can rehire me in the morning.’

  Jay laughed, shaking his head. ‘It doesn’t work like that.’

  I couldn’t help but feel something inside me sink; apparently he really was a good guy, perhaps too good. But I wouldn’t beg; after all, I did have some pride. Besides, I would use it as an even bigger driving force to land the role of my dreams on Monday and have great pleasure in handing in my resignation to the Saloon Bar.

  ‘Well, boss, I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.’

  ‘Abby.’

  I knew what was coming, the old ‘come on, don’t be like that’ line, but instead I smiled, warm and genuine. Because I really wasn’t being ‘like that’. I wasn’t mad. I wasn’t upset. Horny? Yes! But I wanted to be clear that I could deal with this awkwardness, no worries.

  ‘Night, Jay.’ And as I turned away from him, heading across to the stairs, I knew I really was okay, because I had a plan. Instead of dreading the challenges of tomorrow or the next day, I was bloody well looking forward to them.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I was surprisingly chipper, considering.

  I’d started the morning with some yoga, then had my daily date with Ray, who had informed me that, as of today, I wasn’t that terrible, which I eagerly accepted as it was by far the best compliment he had given me.

  There was only one way to face the challenges of tonight and that was to go in as if I were going into an audition. Once you walk through those doors your prep is over – there is nothing else you can do to set yourself up for what you’re about to face. A successful actor must be able not only to endure the pressure but to thrive on it, using it to perform at her very best. Our careers count on it.

  Walking through the doors of the Saloon for the first time as an official employee, the bar crammed already, music thumping so loud the windows were vibrating, I’d never felt such pressure. I wasn’t sure how I was actually going to learn anything – the crowd and the music were going to make it next to impossible to hear instructions. My voice would be hoarse before night’s end, which worried me as my audition kind of relied on it. But I had to forget all that; I had to bury those nerves, switch off my fear and just do the job. Surely a crowd of loud, drunken patrons couldn’t be any more offensive than some of the casting call agents I’d dealt with.

  I reported to the main bar like Billie had told me to do; she’d prepped me well, though I had been adamant about her not coming tonight. I had to accept that there were some times in life when I had to stand up and do it on my own, without a wing woman or man, though I knew Jay wouldn’t be far away, lingering somewhere and watching on. While I liked the idea of him being nearby to call on for help, part of me wished that he was far, far away; if I was going to royally cock up, then I really didn’t want him to witness it.

  There were two areas in the Saloon, the main circular ‘front’ bar where most of the action happened, and the private bars. Due to its size and the quick, darting movement of the staff behind it, the front bar reminded me of a giant fishbowl. It had the most staff and was manic yet well-ordered, the bartenders smashing out drinks and yelling ‘behind’ as they zig-zagged from station to station with military precision. Billie could have briefed me all week, but there’d still be no way I could keep up with them.

  ‘Relax, you’re with me,’ said Deedee, the red-headed punk girl. ‘VIPs are upstairs at the private bars.’

  ‘Is it less crazy than this?’ I shouted.

  ‘Less crazy but more demanding,’ she said, steering me towards the stairs. ‘Dealing with some of the divas can test your patience.’ She stopped and turned partway up, casting me a stern look. ‘But however tempted you might be, you cannot spit in their drinks; that would be an instant dismissal.’

  ‘Oh, right, well, I didn’t plan on it; I mean, I definitely won’t.’

  Deedee nodded. If this was the main part of my orientation then I felt I would be okay. We walked past the closed door of Jay’s office, further along to another room with opened doors.

  ‘There are two main VIP parties tonight: this section Becky and Ana are managing, and the one at the end is for us; a couple of the guys from downstairs will come up later and help keep an eye on things, check out the vibe.’

  I peered into the first room: it was large, with couches and a fully stocked bar, a full surround-sound system and a dance floor; it was a little world, far more sleek and neutral compared to the heavy Saloon theme downstairs, the perfect place to get some action without being annoyed for selfies and autographs. A dark-haired girl broke ice behind the bar, and the other, short-haired girl straightened the couches.

  ‘Who’s in this VIP tonight?’ I asked.

  ‘Ugh, the Real Housewife bitches of Hollywood,’ the short-haired girl puffed while moving the last of the furniture.

  ‘Becky,’ Deedee warned.

  ‘What? Well, they are. They were here last month and they were a bloody nightmare.’

  ‘You all stocked up, Ana?’

  The girl behind the bar rolled her eyes. ‘Yep, we have all the pinot grigio on ice.’

  ‘Hey, you sure you girls don’t want to swap? I could think of worse ways to spend my night than with Leon Denero.’ Becky sighed like a lovesick teenager.

  ‘Oh, that guy is so hot!’ added Ana.

  Deedee never faltered. ‘And that is precisely why you are in this VIP room,’ she said, cutting them a dark parting look.

  Deedee turned back to me. ‘You can put your bag and personal items in the staffroom around the corner and grab a spare apron from the locker; do that and then meet me in the sec
ond VIP room,’ she said, walking away.

  It occurred to me that I had never once seen Deedee even crack a smile; this was going to make for a fun night. At least she wouldn’t stand for any crap.

  The staff room was really small but secure and I placed my bag into a locker, using my birth year as a code for the lock. Now free of my minimal baggage, I took a deep breath and headed back towards the VIP area, stopping when I thought I heard my name.

  ‘Abby, was it? Is that her name?’

  I lingered near the doorway of the VIP room Ana and Becky were in.

  Were they talking about me?

  I stepped a little closer but stayed out of sight.

  ‘I don’t know, dude, I so wasn’t listening when Deedee told me this morning.’

  ‘How does the newbie land a prime VIP gig anyway?’

  ‘I don’t know, but trust Jay to put the lesbian and some washed-up actress in Leon Denero’s room,’ Ana laughed.

  ‘Washed-up actress?’

  ‘Yeah, another Aussie thinking she’s the next Margot Robbie trying to make it over here – it’s so pathetic.’

  I couldn’t listen to any more; instead, I made sure I was heard as I cleared my throat passing their door, doubling back to see their horrified eyes flicking to each other.

  ‘Hey, you ladies have a great night,’ I said sweetly, before breaking away and heading towards the back room, my smile instantly morphing into a sneer.

  Bitches.

  After my run-in with my colleagues, I was just in the right frame of mind to face off with Sienna. I couldn’t give a crap about the smug looks or snarky comments she or her posse might make tonight. This was a test, mainly for myself. If I could smile my way through this, then Monday would be nothing. It would be my new benchmark for any challenges that might come my way; at least, that’s what I told myself. It was easy to be confident when you were stocking a fridge or wiping down a table; knowing the VIP crowds like I did, they wouldn’t be rolling into the venue until much later. The LA Family would make sure they were fashionably late to make a grand entrance, pretending to hate the attention yet not-so-secretly loving it – no wonder Jay hated the scene.

  Passing by Ana and Becky’s VIP room on my way to get some more ice, a chorus of cackles sounded as the Housewives toasted one another. On my way back five minutes later, I saw two women shouting in each other’s faces, false nails pointed at one another, a rather bizarre contrast to their long, elegant cocktail dresses and dangling diamond earrings. Becky and Ana worked on removing empty glasses to avoid breakage, or use as potential weapons.

  I walked back into our quiet, darkened little VIP room, lowering the ice with a sigh. ‘Well, things are kicking off in the other room.’

  Deedee touched her earpiece; I’d have said she looked concerned but she always looked that way.

  ‘Yeah, well, things are about to kick off here, too; Leon and his crew have just arrived.’

  I dropped my bag of ice. ‘Oh shit.’

  ‘Oh shit, alright – they’re early.’

  ‘Oh shit.’

  ‘Can you stop saying “oh shit” and start getting some glasses ready?’ Deedee wrestled with the remote, changing what had been a lovely quiet room into a pounding nightmare, the surround-sound speakers flooding the space.

  Yep, shit definitely just got real.

  I din’t know where Jay was during all this. I had hoped he might come up and give us some kind of inspiring speech about fortitude, and wish us the best. But as I watched Deedee take her place as ‘door bitch’ with a controlled fierceness, I realised that this was not her first rodeo; she did this every week, and these VIPs meant nothing to her. For her this was just another night on the job, but for me it was personal. I was about to serve and slave after my competition, people who had been my equals back home, yet were now my betters. They had made it, they were the elite, and I was at the bottom of the scrapheap.

  ‘Here they come!’ Deedee called from the door, and then I heard them. The catcalls, the woo-hoos and the ‘yeah, brothers’ were nearing, and all I could do was grip the handle of the soda gun with white-knuckled intensity. I squared my shoulders and shifted into my character for tonight. It was going to be my best performance by far.

  There were so many aspects of this group that were predictable, and Leon leading the pack was one of them. He swaggered into the lounge with his arm hooked around the shoulders of ‘his woman’. What I hadn’t predicted was that the shoulders of his woman didn’t belong to Sienna Bailey, but to a very tall, very blonde someone else.

  What the hell?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Maybe they were just friends? Okay, friends don’t kiss each other quite like that; friends definitely use less tongue. Had they broken up? I quickly skimmed the group: Dion, Jake, Jess and Nicole were here – the virtual heart and soul of the LA Family – minus their Queen Sienna. What was going on? And why the hell was this girl sitting on Leon’s knee?

  I had no time to ponder what was unfolding in front of me. Jake and Dion were the first to slam into the bar, shouting over the music to each other, drumming on the counter with their hands. Their bloodshot, hazy eyes looking straight past me to the shelves behind, on a mission to hit it hard.

  ‘Hey, babe, make it a triple shot of what you got. D-Man, you want one of the same?’

  ‘One? I’ll take five – line ’em up, sugar.’

  I had no idea what any of that meant, so I opted for five shots of tequila, and they didn’t seem to object. Providing the salt and lime for each made the scene feel more frat house than exclusive lounge.

  ‘Hey, sweets, you gonna join us?’ Dion winked, saluting me with his shot.

  ‘Yeah, come on, batter up!’ called Jake.

  Babe, sugar, sweets … oh my God.

  They had no idea who I was.

  I had styled my hair into two long boxer-braids which hung down over my shoulders, but surely it wasn’t the ’do that did it. I was dressed in the customary black skirt and Saloon Bar top that everyone wore a little too tight – that must have been it. They expected a bar wench so they saw a bar wench, end of story. I couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear.

  ‘Oh, boys, I totally wish I could, but my boss would kill me,’ I said in the best American accent I could muster. Ray would have been so proud.

  ‘Aww, don’t worry about the bossman, we won’t tell.’

  ‘Yeah, it will be our little secret.’

  Ugh, they think they’re so smooth.

  ‘Abby! Floor, now!’ Deedee slammed a tray on the counter, shooting me a look that said, in no uncertain terms, to stop consorting with the customers. Geez, I couldn’t be friendly and I couldn’t spit in their drinks? I really couldn’t win.

  Deedee brought in some recruits from downstairs, which was a welcome reprieve. Trent and Jax actually knew what they were doing, and the boys didn’t flirt with them. Deedee sent me out for a drink run, tray in hand; it was the last place I wanted to be, circling around the lounge where Leon was being straddled by a flailing blonde octopus. I was swarmed immediately, the drinks taken at lightning speed, leaving my tray empty.

  ‘Hey, I know you.’ My heart stopped as I turned towards the voice. Nicole Towney looked at me with her head tilted, stirring her drink. ‘Abby?’

  The jig was up.

  ‘Hey, Nicole.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  I lifted up the drinks tray and shrugged. ‘Living the dream.’

  I thought I might have received a head nod of pity, or a look of derision; instead, the reaction I got was somewhat surprising. ‘Oh, cool. I have a gig at the Green Olive near my house – amazing breadsticks.’ She chewed on her straw thoughtfully.

  I shifted away from Leon’s group. ‘Hey, can I ask you something?’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’

  ‘Where is Sienna?’

  Nicole’s eyes shifted behind me and I knew exactly what she was looking at. ‘Ah, she had to go out of town, for work.’


  So, she hadn’t lied to me.

  ‘Okay … and have she and Leon broken up?’

  Nicole chewed her straw more intently, her eyes darting over my shoulder again as she shook her head.

  No.

  I felt a deep-seated anger rise within me.

  ‘Then who is that girl?’

  Nicole grimaced. ‘She’s just someone he met before we came here. You can’t say anything to Sienna – it will break her heart.’

  I shook my head, looking at Nicole in complete disbelief. ‘What happens in the VIP room stays in the VIP room, yeah?’ I scoffed.

  ‘Look, it’s none of my business.’

  ‘Sienna is your friend.’

  ‘I know, but I’m trying to make my way in this town, and it’s hard enough without making an enemy of someone like Leon.’

  ‘Oh, fuck Leon!’

  My voice echoed, bouncing off the walls of the lounge, loud and clear, because the universe, in its infinite wisdom, provided a dip in the music, so that my angered declaration could carry to each and every ear. All eyes were now on me. Dion’s, Jake’s, Deedee’s and, as I slowly turned, Leon Denero’s.

  Noticing me for the first time, he was not happy.

  Deedee was beside me in two seconds flat. ‘Abby, take your break now!’

  ‘But I’ve only just started …’

  ‘It’s not up for negotiation – downstairs.’

  Deedee ripped the tray from my hand, and I had to endure the long walk of shame, skimming past Leon’s entourage out to the hall. The last thing I heard was from the astute Jake, asking, ‘What happened to her accent?’

  I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. I walked a long, determined line past the other VIP room, where one woman was in tears outside the door, being comforted by two friends. ‘Don’t you listen to her, Dianne, she has no right to tell you and Ronnie how to live your lives …’

  All of a sudden I was actually envious of the Housewives; at least Dianne had someone on her side. I paused near Jay’s door, torn between wanting to confide in him and to keep the whole ugly mess to myself. I would take my break, clear my head and ready myself to be reassigned downstairs, but first I needed a quick pep talk.