Despite the rocky start, Ziggy did eventually instil some confidence in me; she had hooked me up for some new headshot shoots, booked a meeting with an agency and a few interviews. The more we spoke about her plans for me, the more I realised just how badly I wanted this role. It was the same kind of yearning I’d had when I auditioned for Ship to Sea; I was born to play Annika just as I was born to play Cassie Carmichael.

Ziggy smiled, first at the waiter who cleared our plates, mine barely touched, then she turned her sparkly blue gaze to me, listening intently as she clasped her hands under her chin. I had poured my heart out over lunch, bucked up the courage to run some lines and let her know the research I had done, the motivation for the character I was portraying, and how I was willing to inhabit her, mind, body and soul. She belonged to me. I thought my speech might have earned me some kind of recognition, so when Ziggy smiled and said: ‘Honey, you’re going to need a day job.’

I could have fallen off my chair. ‘What?’

‘Look, great, fantastic, you are doing almost all the right things, and I am super impressed with how keen you are for this role, however …’

Oh, how I hated that word. However.

‘This is not Australia and you don’t have a foot in the door anywhere. I can line things up, connect you to the right people, appropriate jobs, and I have few in mind that I’m excited to tell you about, but …’

‘But what?’

‘You’re going to have to prepare yourself for a lot of rejections.’

My back straightened. I know this was worst-case scenario stuff, but I wasn’t like that. I had to keep positive – it was the only way I was going to make it through.

‘That role is mine, Ziggy, and I will go down fighting for it.’

Her lips pressed together in a thin line. ‘I just don’t want you to be disappointed.’

What I was disappointed in was her lack of faith.

‘Don’t you think I can do it?’

‘Just don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Here,’ Ziggy took an envelope from her bag and slid it across the table. ‘Here are some other projects that will give you good auditioning practice and, with any luck – ’

‘A beer commercial?’

‘A top beer commercial,’ she pointed out.

‘A non-speaking commercial.’

‘It will be good exposure.’

‘As what, flirty girl at the bar?’

Ziggy clasped her hands together on the tabletop; I could see her patience was wearing thin. ‘Okay, so Monday, after your audition, what then?’

‘I – ’

‘I’ll tell you what you’ll do: you go to another audition, then another, you audition for Burger King if you have to. You line up for as much as you can and submit those sparkly, beautiful new headshots to as many people as you can. You know why?’

‘Because this isn’t Australia, nobody knows me, I know.’

‘Because it’s not all sunglasses and autographs. If you want to make it in this town you have to work for it. Bloody hard.’

‘Like Sienna,’ I scoffed.

‘Abby, jealousy doesn’t become you.’

My eyes snapped up. ‘I’m not jealous,’ I squeaked, clearing my throat.

‘Aren’t you? You should be. There is nothing quite like the burning hatred of a nemesis to fuel the fire.’

I sighed. ‘I just want to do good, give it my all.’

‘Then, in that case,’ Ziggy said, placing on her sunglasses and grabbing her bag. ‘Keep fit, stay out of the sun, and spray booths, drink plenty of water, go to your classes and get a day job.’

‘I never thought this would be part of the plan.’ I sulked.

‘Well, princess, if you want to survive then you’re going to have to make it your plan. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, where there are a million Abby Taylors; just let yourself be the smartest one.’

‘I don’t feel too smart right now.’

Ziggy moved, rubbing me on the shoulder. ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself. This is a tough gig. I want you to live as normally as you can in between all the insanity. Lap up anonymity, Abby, you never know how long it will last.’

‘I never thought I would miss being the homewrecker.’

‘Oh, wash your mouth out! Dinner tomorrow night?’

‘Sounds good.’

‘I promise we’ll talk about more fun things next time.’

I knew it was all a part of the tough love she was providing, and maybe it was the hangover, the fight with Billie, and the stupidity of hooking up with Jay last night, but I felt miserable. I had wanted Ziggy to tell me everything I wanted to hear: ‘you’re glowing’, ‘this part is yours for the taking’, ‘Hollywood is lucky to have you’ and ‘of course Jay likes you’. Okay, now I was getting hysterical.

I left Ziggy to her afternoon of laptop by the pool – more Abby Taylors needing her sage advice, no doubt – to wander the city streets looking for some much-needed inspiration, the same warm feelings that had engulfed me when I’d first entered the Roosevelt, surrounded by the ghosts of Hollywood. I wondered how Marilyn felt living there. Her modelling career had been taking off; was she filled with optimism in the beginning? As I looked up at the dirty sky I wondered if it was really pollution or merely clouds of pent-up frustration from all the creative souls riddled with self-doubt. Maybe that’s what the Hollywood sign symbolised: the ultimate, unattainable pinnacle of success, up above the smog, looking down on all the dreamers stuck here, choking.

Wow, I really needed to clear my black mood. And what better way than by passing through the busy intersection, wrapped up among the eager tourists, crossing over to the forecourt entrance of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, a key stop on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Celebrations of the industry’s best literally set in stone – well, concrete. Hordes of onlookers walked over imprints of the eyeglasses of Harold Lloyd, the cigar of Groucho Marx and the legs of Betty Grable. Western stars William S. Hart and Roy Rogers left imprints of their guns, while Rogers’ horse left his hoof prints. Herbie, a Volkswagen Beetle, left the imprints of his tyres. John Wayne had surprisingly tiny feet, and there, of course, were Marilyn Monroe’s dainty handprints.

I whispered a silent wish as I bent down, hoping against hope that our hands would be the same size, that if they matched it would somehow mean something, that I was destined for bigger things. But of course they didn’t – my fingers were much longer than hers. It was clear I would not have made it as a Hollywood actress back in the day.

Taking a ride through the Hollywood Hills on a tour of celebrity mansions was tempting, but so was a nap. Clearly I had a lot to learn about living a rock ’n’ roll lifestyle. Man, when had I become so lame? I was twenty-five years old; these were the best years of my life, and I should be really living them!

There was only one person I wanted to do that with, and, talking to me or not, she was going to start living too. Because I really didn’t want either of us to end up like old Veronica on the lower floor, sharing dinners with a little dog and lusting after men forty years her junior.

Nope, nope, nope.

Time to jump on the bus and head back home. Ziggy had sparked something in me, something that had been a long time coming, and stepping into the footsteps (quite literally) of those who had made it set me on fire. I was going to give it everything I had, starting from now.