Angling my phone in the most ridiculous and unnatural angle, I snapped a picture of my torso and legs, slightly bent, the glistening pool beyond my feet, my stomach held in until I desperately needed air. On the fourth take I was satisfied enough to flick through the selections of filters, choosing the one that made my legs look tanned and the pool extra emerald. I smiled to myself, hitting next and captioning ‘This is what I call Monday’ #californiadreaming #Hollywood #sorrynotsorry.
‘Post.’ I smiled, smug as I placed my phone to the side and reclined on my sun bed, the view of blue sky and palm trees muted through my sunglasses. The first week I had been plagued with emotional doubt, jetlag and the unwavering anxiety that I had made the worst mistake of my life. I almost became nostalgic for front-cover exposés and cellulite snaps of me at the beach. There was comfort in the known, and getting used to my new situation was, well, a little uncomfortable.
Making plans with Billie was not the easiest thing to do. Her work was often either long days or short, broken-up hours, depending on what she had booked. I was often alone, and that was strange. I spent my days by the pool and my nights surfing Netflix. I couldn’t wait for Ziggy to get to LA next week and not only wine and dine me but fill me with hope about my promising future. My ego was in desperate need of a stroke. I picked up my phone to check if anyone had liked my photo and got the feels I needed from the comments.
‘Damn gurl!’
‘I kind of hate you right now.’
‘You are so beautiful. Cassie and Damon 4EVA.’
‘Sooooo jelly!!’
‘Come back Cassie, Damon needs you!’
And then there were the trolls, and a part of me delighted in their attention, too.
‘You’re so up yourself!’
‘You need to eat a burger.’
‘HOMEWRECKER!!’
I flinched at the last word. It gutted me every time I saw it. I skimmed over it and moved on down the list, liking the comments that didn’t tell me I needed lipo. Then I paused at one comment.
‘Abby in the hood! Can’t wait to catch up, babes – we’ll paint the town red. Xo.’ OfficialSiennaBailey.
Ugh, Sienna Bailey.
Sienna was the golden girl of Ship to Sea, and a season favourite until she got killed off in a scuba-diving accident eighteen months ago. She was pretty and popular and vivacious, and it seemed that everything she touched turned to gold.
I couldn’t stand her.
She had been in LA for less than a month when she landed herself a prime role on an original Netflix series that had been an incredible hit. Now there were rumours about who she was dating every five minutes, and heavenly food snaps from exclusive restaurants. The shots of her hiking in the Hollywood Hills in activewear, without so much as a drop of sweat, made me sneer, as did the pics of her linking arms and toasting cocktails with her #LAfamily. Meanwhile, my LA family consisted of Eduardo the groundskeeper, who was scooping up what looked like a dead bird from the pool. Not the greatest start to my day.
Just when I thought my mood couldn’t get any blacker, the screech of the gate sounded and a figure appeared in the corner of my eye.
Oh shit.
I quickly put my phone down and lay still. Eyes closed, I wished him away. I hadn’t seen Jay since utterly humiliating myself last week, for which I was incredibly thankful, but now his footsteps neared. I suddenly felt very exposed in my barely-there bikini. If I pretended to be asleep maybe he would walk on. He didn’t. Instead, a shadow came over me.
I lifted up my glasses, and there he was, arms crossed and looking down at me with a sceptical curve to his brow that said ‘nice life for some’.
And indeed it was, until he came along.
‘You’re blocking my sun,’ I said.
‘Shouldn’t an actress be worried about tan lines?’
‘What?’ I said, looking at the spaghetti strap at my shoulder, calculating how many hours I had been out here. ‘Well, thanks for your concern, but I think I’ll be fine. Besides, I happen to know a brilliant make-up artist.’
‘It would be good for her to get some practice in,’ he said.
‘I hardly think she needs me for practice – she’s doing it every day.’
Jay said nothing, and I lifted my glasses again. Silence wasn’t a foreign concept for him but this time it didn’t sit right, and neither did the way he was looking at me.
‘She hasn’t told you?’ he asked.
‘Told me what?’
Jay shifted. For the first time he didn’t look so confident; in fact, he looked decidedly unsure. ‘Listen, it’s not for me to say,’ he said, and with that he started to walk away.
‘Hey, wait a minute,’ I said, sitting up. ‘You can’t just leave it at that.’
I scooped up my towel and phone and padded after him, trying to keep up. ‘Jay, stop!’ But he was intent on escaping to his condo. Breathless by the time I reached the top floor, I pushed on and threw myself in his path, blocking him along the breezeway.
‘You cannot leave me hanging like that. Why would she need practice?’ I stepped from side to side, mirroring his moves, blocking his path.
‘Abby,’ he warned. Hearing him say my name for the first time kind of threw me. He took advantage of my momentary lapse of concentration and dived past me, moving the final distance to his door.
‘Why would she need practice, Jay?’
He opened his door with expert ease, not allowing me enough time to ask the question. Had I been wearing shoes I might have stuck my foot in the door; my dramatics knew no end.
‘I’m keeping out of it,’ he said. Surprisingly, he didn’t slam the door in my face; instead, he stood there looking down at me as if he wanted to say more. Just as I thought he was going to reveal all, his eyes glanced down, and up again quickly. ‘Ah, you, ah, might want to, ah …’
I frowned, looking down.
Oh my God!
Worse than any red-carpet nightmare, there it was, loud and proud, coming out to say ‘HELLO, BOYS!’ My left breast. Of course, of all the times to have a nip slip, it had to be while I was arguing with an incredibly hot man.
I. Wanted. To. Die.
As I cupped my boob, mortified, Jay stared up at the ceiling, his face twisted like he too wanted to just disappear.
I tucked myself into place and crossed my arms; if he found the ceiling fascinating, I found the floor intriguing. How do you exit such a situation? Why hadn’t he just slammed the bloody door in my face? I could scurry back to my condo and wait for Billie to come home to see if she was willing to relocate to save me from ever running into Jay again, or I could be totally mature about it. I mean, what was there to be ashamed about? I had nice boobs, an ample B, and they were real, which was not something that everyone could claim in this town.
Jay, having moved on from his ceiling investigation, scratched the back of his neck and offered me a small, awkward smile.
‘Well, considering you’ve seen my boob, the least you can do is tell me about Billie.’
Jay smiled more broadly. ‘Do you always extract information this way?’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Oh, sure. It’s a really useful interrogation method.’
‘It’s certainly a distraction. I don’t know how to end this now … it feels kind of wrong to shut the door on a girl who I’ve practically been to second base with.’
‘Pfft, second base, you should be so lucky.’
‘Hey, listen, it’s not my place to say, but maybe just talk to Billie. She could probably do with a sympathetic ear.’
Jay seemed genuinely sincere. I hated to admit it but I kind of respected the fact he wasn’t going to divulge anything about Billie. I mean, who was I? He didn’t know me; sure, I was Billie’s roomie and friend from Oz, but I was just a stranger to him – albeit one who had just flashed him her assets. Still, I wasn’t going to give him credit for being a good guy.
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Clearly I am not going to get any information out of you so I’ll just ask her myself.’
Jay nodded. ‘Maybe just go in with the questions a little bit more gently than you did with me.’
‘Gently?’
‘You did chase me up two flights of stairs and block my path.’
Oh, yeah, that. ‘I guess I can be a little … over-the-top,’ I conceded.
Jay scrunched up his face, struggling to keep it together.
‘Yeah, just a little,’ he said, closing the door.