by C. J. Duggan
‘You’ll have to start giving them back – I’ll have nothing to wear.’
I pulled the tee over my head – again it swam on me – and turned expectantly to Jay.
‘Plastic bag?’
I laughed. ‘You know the drill.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ziggy’s Marilyn Monroe suite was an open-plan loft-style apartment, with white furniture, sleek, hardwood floors, vintage Eames pieces and a wraparound balcony overlooking the Tropicana pool and café.
I could have thought of worse ways to say goodbye, watching as Ziggy poured me a hot black coffee.
‘I feel like such an idiot,’ I confessed. And I wasn’t solely referring to my disastrous audition, more my reaction to it.
‘The first of many hurdles, sweetie.’
‘I know, but I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls. That’s not cool and it won’t happen again.’
‘I’ll forgive you this time, but do me a favour?’
‘Sure.’
‘Learn from this: bunker down, do your lessons, try out for the roles I send your way and stay humble.’
Now there was some good advice. The last thing I wanted was to turn into the LA Family, where the lines between truth and fiction were so blurred they didn’t know the difference anymore. I didn’t want to become one of those people who used others as stepping stones to get to the top. I had to believe that things happened for a reason, like my run-in with Leon and the audition that I’d thought belonged to me. Nope, I was going to do this the hard way – the right way.
‘So this week you have that commercial, and another casting call through the Delaware agency I organised for you. Nothing heavy, just take a look, show up, do your thing, get some notches on your belt.’
All the things I would have turned my nose up at before but now grabbed with both hands.
‘Okay.’
‘Alright, then, well, I best go and make sure I have pilfered all the soaps and shampoos before the porters come. I want to maintain my Marilyn vibe for as long as I can back home.’ Ziggy floated off into the bathroom, clanging and clattering about and scooping up anything that wasn’t nailed down. Just because she was successful didn’t mean she didn’t like free stuff just as much as the next girl.
I nursed my coffee, staring into its depths, thinking of Jay’s eyes and smiling, eager to see him again. I was ready to front up to the Saloon Bar, this time hoping to get through an entire shift without making a scene; facing Deedee would be far more terrifying than any audition I was likely to do.
Ziggy’s voice rang out from inside, but I couldn’t quite hear what she was saying.
‘What’s that?’ I called over my shoulder, refocusing on the poolside cabanas below, seeing if I could celebrity-spot among them.
‘I said,’ her voice called out clearly as she stood in the doorway, ‘why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Tell you what?’
‘About Jay; it bloody bugged me all night until I figured out.’
I tore my gaze from the view and turned, confused. ‘Figured what out?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, the fact that Jay Davis is the son of Alexander Davis, the lead villain of – ’
‘Hollywood Heartbreak!’ I cut her off.
I knew the show, hell, everyone did – Hollywood Heartbreak was one of the longest-running scripted television programs in the world, airing every weekday. The show was a mix of drama and romance, the main, ongoing storyline following two feuding families in the entertainment industry. My mother and nan had been addicted to it for years, and Alexander Davis – or, as we all knew him, Victor Nankervis – was the most notable patriarch and villain on television. He was a handsome man with salt-and-pepper hair, a very impressive goatee, and dark, brooding eyes – Jay’s eyes.
‘Oh my God!’
‘I know! Why didn’t you tell me he was born into Hollywood royalty? That means his mum is – ’
‘Amber Foster Davis.’
‘The multi-millionaire make-up, diet and fitness guru who assaults our television sets with her “only four instalments of $59.99” products; we even had a few in our house.’
‘OH MY GOD!’
After my second exclamation it dawned on Ziggy. ‘You didn’t know?’
‘What, that salt-of-the-earth Jay grew up in a Hollywood mansion surrounded by industry pros? No, I didn’t fucking know!’
I scooped up my bag so fast I nearly took the chair with me.
‘Oh dear,’ grimaced Ziggy. ‘Well, I’m sure he had his reasons.’
I paused at the door. ‘Yeah, I am sure he had his reasons, while judging me as being nothing more than a pathetic actress trying to make her way in this town. How bloody dare he?’
‘Right, well, umm, do you want to maybe calm down before you walk into traffic on the way out? You’re starting to worry me.’
‘Sorry, Ziggy, I gotta go, I just …’ I hugged her then walked out of the suite, dodging the porter in the hall and storming into the elevator. I was so angry I couldn’t even bring myself to hold the doors for a young couple who were running to catch a ride. My hands were balled into fists at my side; my pulse thudded in fury.
‘Victor fucking Nankervis.’
I waited out the front of Madame Tussauds on Hollywood Boulevard, declining a snapshot with Thor and Iron Man. I looked up and down the street, not sure from which direction my saviour might come. A car horn sounded, and I turned to see the flailing arms of Sienna as she pulled up outside of LA LA Land souvenirs in her little white convertible.
‘Hey, sorry I took so long, traffic is – ’ She peeled her glasses down, examining me as I slid into the passenger seat. ‘Hey, are you okay?’
I didn’t speak, I simply pressed a map against the dashboard, poring over it.
‘Abby?
I pointed to the map. ‘Here. I need to be here.’
‘So we’re celebrity stalking?’
‘Sienna, please, I just need you to take me there.’ Sienna must have read something in my eyes, as she simply nodded and pulled back out onto Hollywood Boulevard.
Never argue with a crazy person.
As a new citizen to LA I had fully intended to, on a spare day, nose about some celebrity streets, gasping and pointing at the views of the stunning mansions en route to the Hollywood sign; I mean, I was only human. But I had not envisioned it quite like this – zooming around in Sienna’s open-top convertible down Sunset Boulevard, past Rodeo Drive, the sun beaming down as we sped past palm tree after palm tree, the wind whipping my scowling face. I felt Sienna giving me the side-eye, much like any nervous driver who had picked up a crazy, unpredictable hitchhiker.
After squinting at the Hollywood sign from afar, we continued along Mulholland Drive, passing the mansions of Katy Perry, Bruce Willis and Quentin Tarantino, and even the house where the freakin’ Fresh Prince of Bel-Air was filmed! But there was only one house – mansion, really – that I was interested in, and, without questioning me, Sienna pulled up outside the place I had flagged on the map.
‘Are you sure this is it?’ I asked.
‘This is it.’
I couldn’t bring myself to move – I was too busy staring. My eyes followed the gated circular driveway, the immaculately-kept grounds, the soaring fountain and, finally, the sprawling white two-storey home. The mansion featured large arched windows and a grand double-door entrance that was bigger than Sienna’s car. I envisioned Jay as a small child splashing around in the front-yard fountain, but he probably didn’t need to do that; no doubt there were several pools out back, along with tennis courts, maybe even a bowling alley.
I felt sick. This couldn’t be true. The Jay I knew was a self-made, hardworking, condo-living bachelor in West Hollywood who recoiled from the entertainment industry. This was not him, not possible; Ziggy must have got it wrong.
‘Holy shit! Jay’s parents’ house?’
My head snapped to Sienna, who was looking at her phone. I took it from her while she recovered fro
m her shock. I saw an old photo on the screen, probably from the nineties, of Alexander, Amber and Jay at some red-carpet event. Jay looked like a sullen fifteen-year-old, flanked by his dad in a double-breasted suit and his mum in shoulder pads and Dynasty hairdo.
‘Holy crap, Abby, that’s the dude off – ’
‘I know,’ I said miserably.
‘I told you I knew Jay’s face.’
I scoffed. ‘You and everyone else, it seems.’
‘Mind. Blown.’
We both looked from the map back to the mansion.
I shook my head in utter disbelief. ‘Wait until Billie finds out about this.’
Chapter Thirty-Five
I had wanted to cry, scream, vent and rage over Jay’s secret life to Billie, but after I had poured my heart out, then showed her the map, read out all relevant Wikipedia listings and gone deeper into Google than I ever had before, I was ready to be consoled in the way that only a best friend could. So when, at the end of my tirade, Billie sat there expressionless, saying nothing, my stomach dropped.
‘You knew.’
‘I have known Jay a few years, so naturally I know some things.’
‘And you didn’t tell me?’
‘Well, does he know about your parents?’
‘My dad laid cable for Telstra and my mum worked in a video shop – it’s hardly the same.’
‘Why should it matter where he comes from? I don’t see what the big deal is.’
I couldn’t believe her! She was taking Jay’s side, like always.
‘Look, I don’t care, but I do care about the fact that he was so high and mighty about what I do and the industry as a whole. He’s a bloody hypocrite.’
‘I think you’re reading way too much into it.’
‘No, no, I’m really not,’ I said. I moved to my bedroom, snatched Jay’s cleaned T-shirts and headed for the front door.
‘Abby, where are you going?’
‘To put in my resignation,’ I called back, slamming the door.
‘You sure have some nerve coming back here.’
If Deedee scowled any longer, she’d strip paint from the bar.
I sighed. ‘Is Jay upstairs?’
‘Coming to beg for your job?’ she sneered.
‘Obviously you’re not as important as you think you are, as you haven’t been kept in the loop. I’m still an employee, Deedee.’ I smiled sweetly; little did she know that I wouldn’t be for long.
I didn’t knock, I simply twisted the handle and stepped inside, my brow creasing at seeing Jay at his desk wearing reading glasses, peering at paperwork – a regular Clark Kent. Guess I really didn’t know him at all.
He peeled off his glasses, his smile making my traitorous heart clench until he saw my face, thunderous and betrayed. His eyes dipped to the three T-shirts I held – two of his, plus my Saloon Bar uniform.
‘Laundry day?’
‘I’m giving these back,’ I said coolly, placing them on his desk and stepping back.
‘I was only joking about you taking my clothes.’
‘No, it’s okay. I don’t want anything from you, including this job.’
Jay pressed back in his chair. ‘Right. You have another offer?’
‘Nope, absolutely nothing.’
‘Well, we can keep talking cryptically or you can sit down and tell me what’s on your mind.’
I scoffed. What’s on my mind – is he for real?
‘I actually had a bit of an epiphany today.’
‘And?’
‘And I reckon I am being way too narrow-minded. I came to LA thinking I was going to nail some big movie deal or epic Netflix original series, but you know where it’s really at?’
Jay watched me quietly, sensing the trap.
‘Daytime television!’ I saw something flash in Jay’s eyes and I knew the penny had dropped. ‘But, you know, it’s just like anything in this industry, it’s all about who you know, and I thought that you might have some connections – ’
‘Abby.’
‘Or maybe some tips, you know, some tales from the trenches?’
‘Abby, stop.’
‘No, you stop! Stop lying to me,’ I shouted.
Jay stood. ‘I have never lied to you.’
‘Oh, right. Well, stop pretending, then.’
‘Pretending?’
‘Jay, ever since we met, you have mocked my profession, sneered at the entertainment industry as nothing but a bunch of pretenders out to boost our egos. When you – YOU – have been the biggest pretender of all.’
‘Abby, this is me, this is who I am.’
‘Yeah, a poor rich kid from the Hills wanting nothing more than to fit in with the common man.’
‘And why do you think I’m here? Why do you think that I rebel with every fibre of my being against the entertainment industry? Because I have had it shoved down my throat from the day I was born. I didn’t grow up with normal parents, I grew up with my father being a TV villain. Their life choices are not mine, all I have ever wanted was something real, and despite what you may think, I found that the day I met you.’
I laughed. ‘You made it perfectly clear that I was the biggest fake of all.’
‘I was an idiot – I still am. I should have told you, but I didn’t want things to change.’
‘To change?’
‘Everything always changes when people know.’
It all made sense now, his reluctance to be around the paparazzi, his coyness at the possibility of recognition. Jay had become what celebrities feared most – normal. While most of us were running towards a future, he was running from his past.
‘I’m not living on my daddy’s trust fund. Everything I have is my own: my car, my business, my condo. I’ve fought to be independent, to be humble. I like to think I still am.’
Humble.
The word rung in my mind – the one piece of advice that now made the most sense.
Stay humble.
‘I’ve been lied to before, and I promised myself that I would never let that happen to me again.’
‘Abby.’
‘Look, it’s probably just as well this has happened. I’m in a really confusing place right now. I really should just be focusing on my career and adjusting to LA, and to do that I think I need to keep it simple.’
‘Abby, don’t do this.’
‘Jay, you’re never going to fully accept what I do, and I get that. And it’s not your fault – it makes sense now – but face it, you’re never going to be standing at my side on the red carpet, are you?’
Jay’s jaw clenched, his eyes burning into mine; his silence was my answer.
I nodded. ‘It’s strange, I thought we were from two different worlds, but we’re far more alike than I realised.’
Jay breathed out. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘Too complicated.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
Moving to Hollywood to pursue acting was a giant cliché; okay, I got that. But I never really expected it to be this hard – I know, another cliché. The competition was fierce and the market was oversaturated. Today’s line-up was for the beer commercial that Ziggy had promised and – as Jay had predicted – that didn’t require a script, simply ‘a certain look’. I had felt dirty ‘auditioning’, which meant merely standing before a panel of men and being looked up and down, judged solely on my appearance.
Ziggy had lined it up because it was a good brand and a way to build my stateside exposure. If, by chance, the commercial landed at the Super Bowl, then maybe it would be worth the ego hit the audition promised. Though, staring up at the flickering fluorescent light of the seventies’ veneer-panelled office building, I seriously doubted this commercial would be making it anywhere near the Super Bowl.
As I walked to the bus stop, I wondered what Ziggy was thinking. Was she just out to find me a paying job, no matter the moral turpitude? Was this what I had to look forward to, a starving actor lining up for whatever came my way? Worse still, what if I
couldn’t even land a non-speaking role? What would that say about me? I had thrown myself into my acting lessons, and my American accent, according to Ray, was almost convincing, but maybe it was all for nothing.
Billie and I were like ships in the night most days. She was thriving at her job, which saw her on location for much of the week, and it was wonderful to see her so happy. We never touched on our conversation again; we were clearly never going to see eye-to-eye, and that was fine. I had always been adamant that my relationship with Jay would not affect our friendship, but it kind of did. Maybe if I hadn’t been so self-centred from the get-go there wouldn’t be the underlying strain we had between us now. It was one of the many things I wished I could go back and change.
Sienna was a surprise package: she’d eschewed the superficial bullshit of the #LAfamily and come down to earth – I mean don’t get me wrong, she still had her bitchy moments, but she was learning not to be so judgey. On the days we both had free, we were bona fide tourists together, exploring everything from Malibu beachfront wine tastings to improv shows downtown. After her disastrous, and much-publicised, break-up with Leon, and my whatever-it-was with Jay, we made sure to keep each other busy.
A couple of weeks had passed, but my failings still felt very raw.
‘Abby, you can’t give up – you are going to be a superstar!’
I laughed, my feet resting on the wrought-iron railing of my balcony. ‘I don’t feel like much of a superstar; anyway, that’s not what it’s about.’
‘Then why the crazy talk of quitting?’
‘Not quitting, I just don’t think LA is for me. I’m not being emo about it, but life is so short, so why not explore other options and find something that feels right?’
‘You had something that felt right,’ Sienna murmured to herself before she took a drink.
‘Do. Not. Say the “J” word.’
‘Have you seen him?’
I had been good, locking my balcony door and pulling the curtains across to avoid the spectacle of Jay’s late-night laps. On the third night, however, I broke, peeking through the curtain and opening the door, only to find he wasn’t there. He’d not been there any night since, either.