The Saloon Bar was reminiscent of a giant Aspen ski lodge: wood, stone, sweeping balconies and an expansive courtyard garden. The beers were big; the steaks were plump. Why had I let Billie talk me into bringing Sienna here? She was probably expecting an Ivy-esque atmosphere; shellfish canapés, white linen tablecloths and fresh floral arrangements, and I had brought her to a bar and grill. Sure, it wasn’t just any bar and grill, but somehow I just couldn’t see her sitting on a stool, chowing down on some southern biscuits.

I hadn’t thought this through at all; here I was, looking like Elly May Clampett in shorts and singlet, while she was a vision in crisp white, floating towards me in designer sunglasses, Yves Saint Laurent handbag on her arm. I could smell her perfume from a mile away, probably French and expensive. She was my age but she was dressed like Grace Kelly – like she had just stepped out of a salon, not into a saloon. If she felt out of place she never showed it. Instead, spotting me from a distance, she lifted her sunglasses, a huge, bright, white smile spreading across her radiant face.

‘Abby!’ she called out, waving as she made her way over to me. I slid off my stool knowing she would be a good foot taller than me; now I’d literally be in her shadow.

‘Oh my gosh, look at you.’ She embraced me with her long, bony arms; I only hoped I didn’t get make-up on her shoulder. She pulled away, looking me over from head to toe.

Sienna actually looked thinner than I remembered her on set, maybe it was all that trekking in the Hollywood Hills. Her hair was shiny, her skin was aglow, her teeth were extra white: she represented everything that Hollywood success was about. If she thought we had anything in common and could hang, I was really at a loss as to why; maybe seeing me would make her feel better? Seeing her only made me feel worse. Maybe I should have left Ship to Sea two years earlier, and hit LA when Aussie actors were a hot commodity. Was it too late? Had I missed my time?

‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ she said, sliding onto the seat opposite mine. She placed her bag on the tabletop, label facing my direction. ‘Isn’t it insane?’ she said, shaking her head, staring at me as if my presence was just too much to wrap her head around.

‘Well, we are in La-La Land,’ I said, sipping on my Coke.

‘Right?’ She laughed way too much for my terrible joke.

‘Did you want a drink?’ I asked, looking around for Billie, who, I hoped, was lurking in the shadows, ready to come and save me.

‘I would kill for a sangria, but I have to go to this god-awful red-carpet event with Leon tonight.’ She rolled her eyes.

She didn’t need to name-drop Leon’s surname: every gossip rag had shown snaps of her, on several occasions, locking lips with Hollywood action star Leon Denero.

‘Well, best walk a straight line,’ I said, fixing my eyes on Billie, who was weaving her way to the bar to grab a jug of water; oh, she was loving this.

My attention was snapped away from the bar when I felt Sienna’s hand clasp mine.

‘Babe, tell me the truth,’ she said earnestly. ‘How are you going after that horrifically embarrassing break-up with Scott?’

I felt myself physically recoil from the mere mention of his name – and, worse still, the fact that Sienna Bailey was mentioning the core focus of my humiliation, the very thing I had been running from. Now it had caught up to me here, from the pouted lips of my nemesis. I blinked, pulling my hand away, desperately trying to think of the words, words that failed to come.

Mercifully, a voice sliced through our growing silence.

‘Water, ladies?’ Billie announced, placing the jug and two glasses down.

Sienna placed her sunglasses back on to shield her eyes from the sun, her attention instantly diverted by a notification on her phone. ‘Do you have sparkling?’

‘Why, Sienna, I recall you being partial to plain old tap water back home.’ Billie placed her hand on her hip and looked at her expectantly. Sienna’s attention snapped up from her phone. She slowly lifted her sunglasses, revealing a confused stare.

‘B-Billie?’

‘Hello, Sienna,’ she said brightly.

‘W-what are you doing here?’ Once again came the head-to-toe look.

‘I work here.’

‘Really?’ Sienna said, as if she expected her to say it was a joke, but when the punch line never came, Sienna’s expression morphed from horror to happiness. ‘Oh, awesome, it’s a really cool place. Leon actually dropped me off – he said this was one of his night spots back in the day.’

There was the name drop again, and the little dig – ‘back in the day’ – didn’t go unnoticed by Billie and me. The Saloon Bar? Oh, that’s, like, so yesterday.

‘Well, he knows what a cool place it is, then,’ said Billie, pouring a glass of water for me.

If Sienna was finding it hard to believe I was here in LA, then Billie’s presence was really leaving her lost for words. ‘Wow, it’s like a Ship to Sea reunion,’ she breathed out.

‘It sure is.’ I saluted with my drink.

‘Okay, I’ll give you a minute to look over the menus, and I’ll be back to take your orders; remember, tip big.’ Billie winked.

I laughed, shaking my head and studying the selection, thinking maybe Sienna had found Billie’s quip funny; after all, Billie was always the funny, entertaining one at work. But by the looks of Sienna, shaking her head and watching on as Billie disappeared, she didn’t find anything the least bit funny.

‘What?’ I asked, looking up. I thought maybe she’d been shocked by the lack of vegan options on the menu, but she hadn’t even opened hers up.

‘My God, Billie Martin. Can you believe it?’

‘Believe what?’

Sienna leant forward, lowering her voice. ‘She’s waiting tables at the Saloon Bar, like, totally tragic.’

It took every ounce of my control not to pick up my drink and throw it in her face. ‘What’s so tragic about that?’

‘I just always thought she was doing well for herself, that she was this make-up artist killing it. I never thought she was … here.’

‘Well, most artists have a second gig.’

Sienna laughed. ‘She’s a make-up artist, Abby, not some tortured painter or struggling actor; it’s not the same.’

I remembered why I had detested Sienna so: it wasn’t just because she was a completely talentless fluke, but because beneath the perfect veneer was a bully, a mean girl, and I couldn’t stomach her.

‘Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom,’ I said. If I didn’t get away I was likely to stab her with my butter knife, I was so utterly furious.

I had to calm down. If I leapt over the table and attacked her, chances were there was a pap waiting in the bushes, and I really didn’t need a mugshot to be my introduction to Tinseltown; I mean, that sort of thing usually came much later on. Lost in my furious thoughts and wondering how I would possibly survive the remainder of lunch, I stormed down a corridor and up a small flight of stairs, following the signs to the ladies’ toilets.

Breathe, Abby, just breathe … ‘Fuck!’

I slammed into someone so hard that the involuntary expletive shot out of me as I grabbed at my shoulder, feeling a sharp slice of pain as if I had run straight into a brick wall. And in a way I had, except the brick wall had a face and a name, and its name was Jay.

‘Abby?’

‘Hey, hi.’

‘What are you doing here?’

It was the same question I had asked myself every second I’d been here.

‘Oh, I, um, I’m meeting a friend, and Billie said the cookie-dough sundae was something to write home about, so I thought I’d pop down and have a crack.’

Stop. Talking.

I was blabbering like an idiot, trying to come up with an excuse as if I’d been sprung rifling through his filing cabinet. I had no way of dealing with running into Jay, especially when he was looking at me the way he was now, as if he found my ridiculousness so completely and utterly amusing.

‘Cookie dough?’ he mused.

‘Yeah, love me some cookie dough.’

Honestly, how had I made it to adulthood? I had walked red carpet events in Oz, attended awards ceremonies, interviews and photo shoots with grace and dignity, and yet being near this man turned me into a complete basketcase.

Just when, for the second time that week, I was ready to seek out a second-storey balcony to throw myself off, I was saved by the intervention of Billie, who was bouncing up the stairs behind me.

‘Oh, wow, she has changed soooo much.’

‘Aesthetically, but she’s still a mega bitch.’

‘Her hair is ridiculously shiny. Do you think she’s had work done? Her nose looks more like a ski jump than I remember.’

‘Who are you talking about?’ Jay interjected.

‘Sienna Bailey,’ Billie said pointedly, like he should know who that was, but his eyes were blank.

‘You know, from that crime/mystery show made for Netflix, something “FX” – I can’t remember the full title. She plays one of the main characters.’

‘Oh, yeah, that’s a really great show.’

I rolled my eyes. Was everyone mad?

‘Yeah, I remember, she plays the main girl, has a really bad accent in it,’ he said.

My head snapped around so quickly I almost got whiplash. ‘What did you say?’

Jay looked at me, probably taken aback by the manic look in my eyes. ‘Ah, her accent is bad?’

‘Really, how?’

Jay shrugged. ‘Have you seen it? I think she’s trying too hard. Her American accent is way over the top.’

I stared at Jay, overcome by the desire to kiss him square on the lips; with four small words, Jay had made my day, my month, and he didn’t even know it.

‘I think you might be my favourite person in the world right now.’

Jay smirked, a little intrigued and whole lot confused as he looked between me and Billie, not quite sure what to make of my weirdness.

Billie sighed. ‘Sienna Bailey is Abby’s arch enemy.’

‘Oh, right,’ he said.

‘She has this way of sounding like she’s being sweet while being a total bitch,’ Billie said.

‘And she’s a terrible name-dropper,’ I added.

‘And just generally makes you feel beneath her, right?’ Billie said.

Billie was on the money, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine what she would think if I ever relayed what Sienna had said about her. The last thing she needed was a judgemental idiot making her feel worse than she already did.

‘And this is the friend you’re meeting with?’ Jay asked, perplexed.

Oh great, now he would think I was this giant two-faced bitch; maybe I was a hypocrite. Lunch wasn’t my idea, exactly, but he wasn’t to know that.

‘Yeah, well, more of foe, really,’ I said.

‘Do you want me to make up an excuse for you to cut lunch short? An emergency phone call or something?’ Billie asked.

‘No, thanks, I’ll be right. I’ll use it as an acting lesson, an Academy Award–winning one at that.’

Jay folded his arms. ‘Why don’t you just leave? Why waste your time hanging out with someone you don’t like?’

His completely logical advice annoyed me. ‘Well, it’s complicated.’

‘Only if you make it complicated.’

‘Abby’s manager set it up for her,’ Billie added in my defence.

Jay scoffed. ‘Managers.’ He said the word as if it had a bitter aftertaste; it was the same disdain he’d shown when he learnt I was an actress.

‘Don’t sweat it, Jay. I don’t expect you to understand,’ I said coolly, swapping one place I didn’t want to be for another. Back at my table, Sienna was idly swiping through her smartphone, bored.

‘Sorry, I was just asking Billie what the specials were,’ I lied.

Sienna laughed. ‘Well, she’d know,’ she said with a little wink, like we were a part of some inner joke.

‘Actually, I’m thinking of getting a gig here.’ Another lie.

Sienna’s eyes flashed up from her drink. ‘What?’

‘Yeah – I mean, I think I would just go mad if I spent my days jogging up to the Hollywood sign and sipping on vegan juices all day. I need to be in the thick of it, chatting to VIPs and rock stars. Come sundown this place is something else.’

Though I had little proof that the Saloon’s reputation was, in fact, true, the kink in Sienna’s perfectly manicured brow was enough to tell me she was intrigued.

‘Here you go. On the house, the tastiest buttermilk biscuits you’ll ever have.’ Billie broke the silence, placing down the basket. ‘Ready to order?’

‘Ah, yeah, I’ll have the kale and quinoa without the honey mustard vinaigrette, please.’

Billie smiled so brightly she almost blinded us. ‘Of course you will,’ she said sweetly; then she turned to me expectantly.

‘And I’ll have the chicken tacos, with extra sour cream and guacamole,’ I said without apology. If my memory served me rightly, Sienna loved her food, and the thinly-veiled disappointment in her voice when she had ordered told me as much. I would have great pleasure watching her face fall when our plates arrived.

‘Abby was just telling me what a hoot this place is,’ Sienna said.

Oh God, I wished I could telepathically communicate with Billie right now; please don’t undo my lies.

‘Yeah, haven’t you been here on a Thursday night? The place is insane! You really aren’t a local until you’ve experienced happy hour here.’

I had no way of knowing if anything Billie was saying was true, but it aligned with my glowing testimony, and I was relieved. Until I saw Jay making a beeline for our table. Mr Honesty-is-the-best-policy was on his way, and we were so screwed.