I swear, the moment my mind was made up, the universe provided; no sooner had I washed away the yoga sweat and towel-dried my hair than I received a message from Ziggy.

You’re going to want to check your email! Z x

My heart raced, because I knew what that meant: she had something exciting to report. Sure, a call would be great, but Ziggy was a busy woman, often locked down in conference calls and lunch meetings, and I had learned not to be oversensitive to the lack of one-on-one time early on. An email was grand.

Especially when the title of the email read: ‘You’re going to want to jump on this.’

I clicked so quickly I missed the email window altogether, then I quickly realigned the mouse and drilled into the email.

‘Oh my God!’ My eyes ticked over the screen.

Casting call.

Sci-fi pilot

Jerry Fucking Bassman

It only took those first three lines to know that I was sold, that I wanted whatever part of it there was, even if it meant fetching lattes for the staff on set. But, reading through Ziggy’s email, it was so much more than that. They were searching for a female actor for a strong supporting role in an intense end-of-days drama, exploring the battle of good versus evil and the fight for survival, skim, skim, skim … I had all I needed. I was perfect for the role, this was mine, and Ziggy had obviously thought so too.

Start prepping, MS attached, you go up Monday! Z

My mouth went dry. This was it. My first real, honest-to-God, serious audition for something truly amazing. I thought back to Jay’s scepticism, of the picture he painted of lining up for non-speaking beer commercials, and I was even more determined to prep for this role of …

‘Annika.’ Description: small but fierce.

‘I’m small but fierce.’

Can cut down full-grown men with a simple look.

‘I can do that.’

Athletic.

I tried not to think about how red my face was – even now – after puffing my way through yoga. I mean, I did dance and gymnastics in my teens; I could get by.

Attached was a full backstory and the scene for the character, which was to be prepared for the audition.

‘Way to go, Ziggy!’

I would hug the life out of her when she got here; this was what I was talking about, the very thing I had hoped for. If this came to fruition, who knew? Maybe I would have a real secret deal to allude to after all.

I printed off the manuscript, using the eco-friendly, recycled yellowish paper that Billie stocked the office with. It seemed like a bit of a crime to have such great writing displayed in such a way.

I found Billie painting her toenails in the lounge room. I helped her dry them by fanning them with my script, smiling from ear to ear.

Billie looked up at me, instantly recognising my giddiness. ‘What is that?’

‘A pilot of dreams.’

‘That’s not the name of it, is it?’ Her face twisted.

‘No, silly.’ I bopped her on the head with it before sitting down and handing it to her.

‘It’s a pilot episode of a new sci-fi series produced by – ’

‘Jerry Bassman?’ Billie blurted out. Her eyes widened as she flipped over the pages. ‘Holy shit, Abby!’

‘I knooow, right?’

‘Christ, they don’t need a make-up artist, do they? Someone to attach elf ears or something?’

I laughed, taking the manuscript from her. ‘I don’t think there are elf ears involved, it’s more of a dystopian, sand-dune, end-of-the-world kind of thing. But for that the actors would need to look weathered and dirty – I’m sure you could manage that.’

‘Hey, weathered and dirty is my middle name.’ The minute the words left Billie’s mouth, we looked at each other, frowning before bursting into hysterics.

‘Okay, maybe not,’ she said, grabbing the papers back from me and looking over them in awe. ‘So, what now?’

‘I have a meeting on Monday, so I’ll be prepping for then. Get into the headspace, do some research – oh God, meet with my voice coach. Jesus, I have to call Faye!’ I said, clutching my head.

‘Isn’t it “Ray”?’ Billie corrected.

‘Shit, yes, Ray! RAY! Christ, Ziggy is going to kill me.’

‘Okay, just calm down, you’ve got this, and Ziggy wouldn’t have put you up for it unless she knew it was a perfect fit for you, and it so is.’

‘Could you imagine, name-dropping Jerry Bassman to the LA Family over happy hour?’ I laughed, but Billie didn’t find it funny. Her face pinched a little, as if slightly annoyed.

‘Don’t worry about them, or what they think – just worry about you and this,’ she said, lifting up the script.

‘Yeah, I know,’ I said, feeling a bubble of defensiveness float to the surface. ‘Well, I better get cracking with this.’

Lockdown began now.

‘Hey, I’m making some carbonara, but don’t worry, I have some cheap wine that will cut through the cream.’

My heart soared at the thought, but my mind quickly shut it down. ‘I’m kind of on a health kick right now.’

Billie’s brow curved. ‘Oh … well, I’m fresh out of kale.’

I winced. ‘I know, worst housemate ever. Don’t worry about me, I’ll grab something later. Just try not to fill the place with too many delicious aromas,’ I said with a wink, before heading to my room and shutting the door, gripping the script tightly in my hands.

‘You got this, Abby. You. Got. This.’