by C. J. Duggan
I always knew when his car was out front and, when it was, a part of me hoped that I might bump into him on the stairs or in the breezeway, but it was pretty clear that he was avoiding me as much as I was avoiding him.
‘Nope, he must be pretty taken up with work,’ I shrugged, ready to move on from the forbidden subject. I certainly wouldn’t be discussing the fact that I had been secretly YouTubing episodes of Hollywood Heartbreak. No one needed to know that.
‘How about you stick it out another month? That means you would have given yourself at least three months here. A lot can happen in a month.’
I had thought about staying for six months, but I liked the sound of three; better to rip off the Band Aid quickly.
‘Have you mentioned this to Ziggy yet?’
‘No way – I don’t need any more pressure.’
‘Fair enough. Now, are you over being all doom and gloom?’
I laughed. ‘Yes, for now.’
‘Well, you better be, because if you are going to be a total Debbie Downer then I will not be taking Cinderella to the ball.’
‘What?’
Sienna grinned from ear to ear, jumping up from her seat and skipping to her handbag.
‘Ta-da! Two tickets to the Hollywood premiere of Forget Me Not. Starring Oliver Drake and Mary Masterson.’ She dangled them in front of me.
‘Are you freakin’ kidding me?’
‘Nope! Doug, who is head of publicity, wants some of us to walk the red carpet at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, and who was I to argue?’
‘This is awesome! I am dying to see this movie.’
‘Well, you won’t just be seeing it, you will be rubbing shoulders with the stars.’
‘I’ll more likely get ushered out of the way so they can take pictures of you, but that’s okay.’
‘Are you kidding? They get a whiff of you being “Pitcher Girl” and they’ll swarm you.’
I cringed; I really didn’t want that to be my claim to fame.
‘Don’t worry, I’m just teasing; it will be a really good way to network, and you get to wear a pretty dress.’
My eyes widened. ‘Oh shit, what will I wear?’
Sienna smiled mischievously. ‘You leave that to me.’
There was something to be said for drinking water and not having guacamole with every meal; the red dress that Sienna loaned me actually fitted, now that I was being a little kinder to my body.
Though I didn’t feel like I belonged in Hollywood, standing in Sienna’s dress, moving from side to side, I felt as if I at least looked the part.
‘Wow!’
I turned to see Billie in the doorway, her smile of approval evident.
‘Isn’t it beautiful?’
‘Sienna done good.’
‘You’re not booking into that same godawful salon that did your tan, are you?’
‘Oh, hell no – I think I will just keep it simple.’
‘Simple, yet stunning,’ Billie said, standing to my side and admiring my dress in the reflection. ‘If you want, I can do your make-up?’
‘Really?’
‘Sure, it’s kind of my thing.’
I laughed. ‘That would be amazing.’
‘Good, because Freddy’s coming over at four-thirty,’ Billie announced, leaving my room abruptly.
I did a double-take, gently gathering my skirt and following her out. ‘Ah, who’s Freddy?’
‘He’ll be doing your hair; I work with him. He’s amazing. Used to do J-Lo’s highlights.’
‘You’ve had this planned?’
Billie shrugged. ‘Only for the past week. Didn’t think you’d object.’
The awkwardness of the last few weeks fell away and I could feel my heart soar; without the ability to put the feeling into words, I shimmied over and wrapped my arms around her instead.
‘You’re welcome,’ she said, wiping the corner of her eye. ‘Now, let’s channel some classic Hollywood. This is going to be your first red carpet, so let’s make it one no one will forget.’
Chapter Thirty-Seven
‘What do you mean, you can’t make it?’
Keeping my voice even was impossible, and I sounded as horrified as I felt.
‘Abby, I am so sorry, I have been sick all day. I wanted to leave it for as long as I could, hoping I would feel better, but I just can’t keep anything down.’
Sienna sounded awful, her voice weak and weary. I really wanted to be a good friend but I was standing out the front of the condo, in an evening gown, waiting for a limousine to take me to a premiere. It wasn’t like she was bailing on a night of ice-cream and bad TV.
‘Look, don’t panic. Carl Moran knows you’re coming – he will tell you where you need to be. Just think of this as a really luxurious trip to the cinema.’
‘With celebrities, paparazzi and film crews?’
‘Thought you didn’t get starstruck.’
‘I don’t!’ I said, way too defensively.
‘I’m sorry, Abby.’
‘It’s okay, it’s not your fault. Just get better, okay?’
‘I want a serious debrief tomorrow morning, if I haven’t perished through the night.’
‘Okay, deal.’
I ended the phone call just as a black limousine rounded the corner of the street, heading in my direction to pick me up – at least my ride hadn’t bailed. I shook off my nerves and stepped into the car. I was all dressed up with somewhere to go, and I was going to embrace it fully. I would rub shoulders with the stars, practise my poses, schmooze with the elite, totally judge others’ fashion choices and report back to Sienna tomorrow – because that’s what friends do.
The limo crept forward along Hollywood Boulevard, the muffled squeals and flashes getting louder and brighter as we edged closer. I sipped on a steadying champagne, only to panic and check my lipstick – thankfully, there was none on my teeth. The door opened on the car in front to a cacophony of screams and yet more flashing bulbs. I tried to peer through the heavily-tinted glass, wondering what all the fuss was about, until Dom, my driver, enlightened me.
‘Oliver Drake, ma’am.’
‘Ah, yes, well, that makes sense.’
I couldn’t help but laugh, thinking how disappointed they were going to be to see me alighting from the next limo; it was the equivalent of the unpopular kid being picked last for the sports team. But there was no time to care – it was my turn to make a grand entrance, and I was too busy worrying about how I’d get out of the limo without tearing Sienna’s dress or landing flat on my face. I was way out of practice; the Logies was the last similar event I’d been to, and that was a backyard barbeque when compared to Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.
The car stopped, and just as I had at my auditions, I took five seconds of grounding time, reminding myself to breathe. Casting my eyes down, I positioned my dress, then heard the door click and pull open.
Go.
There was no way of preparing for this: the blinding flashes, the calling of my name – wait, how did they know my name? The people behind the cameras had obviously done their homework, their calls attempting to drown out those of the fans packed behind barriers, hoping to grab a selfie with a celebrity. Stepping onto the walkway, I knew I was a nobody, but I still stood there, hand on hip, my smile bright, pivoting and posing at various angles. The cries from the barriers signalled that they obviously thought I was a somebody. Not wanting to miss an opportunity, they yelled out, ‘We love you,’ and ‘Can you please sign this for me?’
It was confronting, and beyond anything I might have imagined. During my time in Hollywood, my expectations had so often been obliterated, yet this was something else entirely. It was like the world was moving around me in slow motion, the flashes, the yelling from ushers, the microphones shoved at me while large square lights shone hotly on me; it was utterly overwhelming. I knew I should have been enjoying it, putting particular care into my pose or smile, but I hadn’t even hit the red carpet and I already felt completely at sea
. I watched on as Oliver charmed and worked his adoring fans like a professional, like he was born to do it.
I simply stood frozen, blinking and staring. My pose was lost, my smile small and weird. I didn’t know what to do or where to stand.
A man with a headset screamed at my side, ‘Move on or get off.’
I stepped forward, feeling like cattle being herded to the slaughter. Just walk, walk through, walk on, lift your head and look forward. The moment I was finally able to lift my eyes, I stopped, blocking the red carpet once again and sending the man with the headset into a fit of rage. But I cared little about him, or about the flashes or the incoherent, maddened screams; all I could do was stare at the vision in front of me.
Standing there, at the top of the red carpet, was Jay, dressed in a gorgeous tailored black suit and black tie.
The world fell away. As the shock rolled through me, everything faded to white noise and shadow, and all I could do was smile. I watched him walk the wrong way down the carpet towards me, breaking all the rules as only he could. It was easy to think I imagined it, but when he grabbed my hand and looked down at me for a long moment, I knew he was real. He lifted his darkened gaze to the tiny man with a big mouth behind me.
‘She’s with me.’
‘Oh, sorry – I didn’t – nobody told me.’
I laughed, following Jay, walking along, stopping and smiling for paparazzi, leaning into him and posing for photos, taking in every bit of this crazy, surreal scene. We were ready to move through the last section, nearly home free, when I stopped. Jay looked back at me, his eyes questioning.
‘You’re on a red carpet.’
Jay’s brows rose as he inspected his feet. ‘So it would seem.’
‘You said you would never do that.’
‘No, you said that.’
Jay stepped closer, cupping my face, caring little for the cameras or the crowds, for who people might think he was, or I was, because in that moment it was just us.
‘I’d walk over fire for you, Abby Taylor.’
I would say it was in that moment that I knew, but that would be a lie, because not so deep down I had always known. Jay was not Scott. My fear of betrayal was not born from his reluctance to be in the spotlight, from his need to be anonymous – if anything, I had known better than anyone the need to be a nobody, even if just for a little while. No, he was different. Jay Davis was the real deal.
‘Good, because I’m going to need a leading man.’
Jay smiled, pressing a kiss to my forehead, squeezing my hand tightly as we walked on.
‘I can’t wait to tell Sienna about this.’
Jay laughed. ‘Why don’t you tell her now?’
I followed his gaze to see Sienna and Billie standing up ahead, screaming out our names.
‘Jay, Jay, this way!’
‘Abby, please, can I grab a selfie? Please, please, please?’
‘Abby, who are you wearing?’
‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ I said, moving towards them and whacking them with my clutch. Jay was their saviour, coming up behind me and pinning my arms to my side.
A very healthy-looking Sienna snatched my clutch from me. ‘Surprise!’
‘What am I going to do with friends like you?’ I shook my head, turning towards Jay, who seemed just as pleased as the girls were.
He scooped his arms around my waist, lifting me onto my tippy toes.
‘How about live happily ever after?’ said Billie.
I wrapped my arms around Jay’s neck, smiling brightly at the idea.
‘Now that’s what I call a Hollywood ending,’ I mused.
Jay shook his head, lowering his lips to mine, ignoring the whistles and catcalls from our idiotic friends. ‘No, it’s only the beginning.’
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Two weeks later …
‘Again, why are we doing this?’ I groaned, dragging my feet and leaning against Jay, hoping he might carry me the rest of the way.
‘Peer pressure.’
As I climbed the dusty hills of Mount Lee, experiencing slight heat exhaustion, I couldn’t help but question my sanity. Jay was right. This was most definitely not my idea, and I let them know as much, my eyes boring into the back of Sienna’s and Billie’s perky, swinging ponytails as they hiked on with ease.
‘Man, I am so unfit. Remind me to start cutting laps with you,’ I puffed.
Even though Los Angeles boasted pumping clubs, Michelin-starred restaurants and the glamourous abodes of some of Hollywood’s biggest names, here I was hiking three miles up a dusty, rattlesnake-prone path.
Awesome.
Despite the extreme conditions (and sunburn), I had to admit that there was something rather poetic about seeing the iconic Hollywood sign up-close, and having a sweeping perspective over the city.
‘Come on, keep moving.’ Jay steered me from the shoulders, pushing me up the slight incline, putting up with my whimpers and protests like only a good boyfriend would. I heard the enthusiastic calls of Sienna and Billie up ahead, pointing to the sign.
It sure was something to see, and it lit a spark inside me. I increased my pace.
‘That’s it, move that ass,’ Jay yelled, smacking my butt and jogging ahead, but I had to stop to wrestle with my backpack. ‘Hang on, I’m vibrating. Shit, wait.’
‘Seriously, now?’
‘Two seconds,’ I said, searching for my phone; the interruption of technology in the serene surrounds seemed unforgivable, but I answered it anyway.
After a short conversation, I ended the phone call. I couldn’t move, not an inch, and something about my posture drew Jay back to my side.
‘Everything okay?’
I slowly looked up at him, completely catatonic.
‘Abby?
‘What’s going on?’ Billie’s voice called down.
I blinked, then my eyes fixed to the Hollywood sign and I broke into a slow, probably scary smile.
‘A sign.’
Jay followed my eyes, confused. ‘Right?’
I started to laugh, grabbing at Jay’s shirt and jumping up and down. ‘It’s a sign, a sign!’
Billie and Sienna came back down to us, watching as I started to cry.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Sienna.
Jay shook his head. ‘I think she’s had too much sun.’
‘Who was on the phone, Abby?’
‘Jerry fucking Bassman! He wants me to do a call-back for the role of Annika! They reviewed my tape and they want to meet with me.’
‘Holy shit.’ Jay rested his hands on his head, barely believing my words as Billie and Sienna leapt on me in a big, sweaty group hug.
‘I knew you’d do it, you bloody superstar!’
Cupping my cheeks in complete disbelief, I tried to draw in breaths through my sobs. ‘I thought I had completely ruined it. I can’t believe it.’
Jay laughed, drawing me into his arms. ‘So humble.’
‘No, seriously, I thought I sucked.’
‘Come on, you two, we have to commemorate this amazing moment in time!’ called Sienna, starting up the hill.
We ran the rest of the way up to the lookout, a group of Japanese tourists flinching at our approach. We caught our breath, only for it to be taken away again by the glorious view, the sun beginning to set. We asked the tourists, through a series of strange gestures, to take our photo, then shuffled into position, ensuring the Hollywood sign was the ultimate photobomber in the background.
Putting our arms over each other’s shoulders, our smiles brighter than the California sunshine, our impromptu photographer counted down:
‘Three, two, one – say “Hollywood”!’
‘HOLLYWOOD!’ *Click*
Acknowledgements
To my loving husband Michael, for braving the turbulent waters of an often-tortured artist – fourteen books on and you still check on me at ridiculous hours of the day asking if I need a drink or some chocolate; you are lovely!
To my wo
nderful publisher, Hachette: Fiona, Kate, Sophie, Haylee – thank you for all your passion, support and encouragement.
To my beautiful bookish friends Anita, Keary, Jess and Lilliana – this gig would be impossible without you.
To my amazing family for putting up with my lockdowns and never-ending deadlines, for constantly reminding me of things I tend to forget; you remind me to live and be balanced, your love is the best anchor I could wish for.
To all the readers, bloggers, reviewers of my stories, for taking something away from my words and for loving and embracing the characters, for wanting to read Australian voices, no matter what city they may stand in.
C.J. Duggan is the internationally bestselling author of the Summer, Paradise and Heart of the City series. She lives with her husband in a rural border town of New South Wales. When she isn’t writing books about swoon-worthy men, you’ll find her renovating her hundred-year-old Victorian homestead or annoying her local travel agent for a quote to escape the chaos.
CJDugganbooks.com
twitter.com/CJ_Duggan
facebook.com/CJDugganAuthor
ALSO BY C.J. DUGGAN
THE PARADISE SERIES – SEXY AUSTRALIAN NEW-ADULT ROMANCE FULL OF SUN, SURF AND STEAMY SUMMER NIGHTS
THERE’S BOUND TO BE TROUBLE IN PARADISE …
If you enjoyed Hollywood Heartbreak, you’ll lose yourself completely in the rest of the Heart of the City series.
Read on for a sneak peek of When in Rome …
Chapter One
It struck me as a wondrous talent that Jan was able to type anything on her keyboard with her manicured hot-pink talons. Her entire focus was on her computer screen; her short coiffed hairstyle partially blocking the palm tree–lined beach backdrop. Dressed in a stiff navy jacket and cravat and wearing heavy eye make-up, Jan prided herself on looking the part, though I desperately wanted to reach out and blend her foundation line into her neck. John and Jan Buzzo’s travel agency looked like the place where airline staff who couldn’t quite pass the test came to live out their days, fulfilling their own crushed dreams by living vicariously through other people’s travels. At the back of the room, just before the curtained alcove that didn’t quite hide the view of the kettle and cup-a-soups, John Buzzo banged on the top of the printer and swore under his breath at the paper jam.