I was surprisingly chipper, considering.

I’d started the morning with some yoga, then had my daily date with Ray, who had informed me that, as of today, I wasn’t that terrible, which I eagerly accepted as it was by far the best compliment he had given me.

There was only one way to face the challenges of tonight and that was to go in as if I were going into an audition. Once you walk through those doors your prep is over – there is nothing else you can do to set yourself up for what you’re about to face. A successful actor must be able not only to endure the pressure but to thrive on it, using it to perform at her very best. Our careers count on it.

Walking through the doors of the Saloon for the first time as an official employee, the bar crammed already, music thumping so loud the windows were vibrating, I’d never felt such pressure. I wasn’t sure how I was actually going to learn anything – the crowd and the music were going to make it next to impossible to hear instructions. My voice would be hoarse before night’s end, which worried me as my audition kind of relied on it. But I had to forget all that; I had to bury those nerves, switch off my fear and just do the job. Surely a crowd of loud, drunken patrons couldn’t be any more offensive than some of the casting call agents I’d dealt with.

I reported to the main bar like Billie had told me to do; she’d prepped me well, though I had been adamant about her not coming tonight. I had to accept that there were some times in life when I had to stand up and do it on my own, without a wing woman or man, though I knew Jay wouldn’t be far away, lingering somewhere and watching on. While I liked the idea of him being nearby to call on for help, part of me wished that he was far, far away; if I was going to royally cock up, then I really didn’t want him to witness it.

There were two areas in the Saloon, the main circular ‘front’ bar where most of the action happened, and the private bars. Due to its size and the quick, darting movement of the staff behind it, the front bar reminded me of a giant fishbowl. It had the most staff and was manic yet well-ordered, the bartenders smashing out drinks and yelling ‘behind’ as they zig-zagged from station to station with military precision. Billie could have briefed me all week, but there’d still be no way I could keep up with them.

‘Relax, you’re with me,’ said Deedee, the red-headed punk girl. ‘VIPs are upstairs at the private bars.’

‘Is it less crazy than this?’ I shouted.

‘Less crazy but more demanding,’ she said, steering me towards the stairs. ‘Dealing with some of the divas can test your patience.’ She stopped and turned partway up, casting me a stern look. ‘But however tempted you might be, you cannot spit in their drinks; that would be an instant dismissal.’

‘Oh, right, well, I didn’t plan on it; I mean, I definitely won’t.’

Deedee nodded. If this was the main part of my orientation then I felt I would be okay. We walked past the closed door of Jay’s office, further along to another room with opened doors.

‘There are two main VIP parties tonight: this section Becky and Ana are managing, and the one at the end is for us; a couple of the guys from downstairs will come up later and help keep an eye on things, check out the vibe.’

I peered into the first room: it was large, with couches and a fully stocked bar, a full surround-sound system and a dance floor; it was a little world, far more sleek and neutral compared to the heavy Saloon theme downstairs, the perfect place to get some action without being annoyed for selfies and autographs. A dark-haired girl broke ice behind the bar, and the other, short-haired girl straightened the couches.

‘Who’s in this VIP tonight?’ I asked.

‘Ugh, the Real Housewife bitches of Hollywood,’ the short-haired girl puffed while moving the last of the furniture.

‘Becky,’ Deedee warned.

‘What? Well, they are. They were here last month and they were a bloody nightmare.’

‘You all stocked up, Ana?’

The girl behind the bar rolled her eyes. ‘Yep, we have all the pinot grigio on ice.’

‘Hey, you sure you girls don’t want to swap? I could think of worse ways to spend my night than with Leon Denero.’ Becky sighed like a lovesick teenager.

‘Oh, that guy is so hot!’ added Ana.

Deedee never faltered. ‘And that is precisely why you are in this VIP room,’ she said, cutting them a dark parting look.

Deedee turned back to me. ‘You can put your bag and personal items in the staffroom around the corner and grab a spare apron from the locker; do that and then meet me in the second VIP room,’ she said, walking away.

It occurred to me that I had never once seen Deedee even crack a smile; this was going to make for a fun night. At least she wouldn’t stand for any crap.

The staff room was really small but secure and I placed my bag into a locker, using my birth year as a code for the lock. Now free of my minimal baggage, I took a deep breath and headed back towards the VIP area, stopping when I thought I heard my name.

‘Abby, was it? Is that her name?’

I lingered near the doorway of the VIP room Ana and Becky were in.

Were they talking about me?

I stepped a little closer but stayed out of sight.

‘I don’t know, dude, I so wasn’t listening when Deedee told me this morning.’

‘How does the newbie land a prime VIP gig anyway?’

‘I don’t know, but trust Jay to put the lesbian and some washed-up actress in Leon Denero’s room,’ Ana laughed.

‘Washed-up actress?’

‘Yeah, another Aussie thinking she’s the next Margot Robbie trying to make it over here – it’s so pathetic.’

I couldn’t listen to any more; instead, I made sure I was heard as I cleared my throat passing their door, doubling back to see their horrified eyes flicking to each other.

‘Hey, you ladies have a great night,’ I said sweetly, before breaking away and heading towards the back room, my smile instantly morphing into a sneer.

Bitches.

After my run-in with my colleagues, I was just in the right frame of mind to face off with Sienna. I couldn’t give a crap about the smug looks or snarky comments she or her posse might make tonight. This was a test, mainly for myself. If I could smile my way through this, then Monday would be nothing. It would be my new benchmark for any challenges that might come my way; at least, that’s what I told myself. It was easy to be confident when you were stocking a fridge or wiping down a table; knowing the VIP crowds like I did, they wouldn’t be rolling into the venue until much later. The LA Family would make sure they were fashionably late to make a grand entrance, pretending to hate the attention yet not-so-secretly loving it – no wonder Jay hated the scene.

Passing by Ana and Becky’s VIP room on my way to get some more ice, a chorus of cackles sounded as the Housewives toasted one another. On my way back five minutes later, I saw two women shouting in each other’s faces, false nails pointed at one another, a rather bizarre contrast to their long, elegant cocktail dresses and dangling diamond earrings. Becky and Ana worked on removing empty glasses to avoid breakage, or use as potential weapons.

I walked back into our quiet, darkened little VIP room, lowering the ice with a sigh. ‘Well, things are kicking off in the other room.’

Deedee touched her earpiece; I’d have said she looked concerned but she always looked that way.

‘Yeah, well, things are about to kick off here, too; Leon and his crew have just arrived.’

I dropped my bag of ice. ‘Oh shit.’

‘Oh shit, alright – they’re early.’

‘Oh shit.’

‘Can you stop saying “oh shit” and start getting some glasses ready?’ Deedee wrestled with the remote, changing what had been a lovely quiet room into a pounding nightmare, the surround-sound speakers flooding the space.

Yep, shit definitely just got real.

I din’t know where Jay was during all this. I had hoped he might come up and give us some kind of inspiring speech about fortitude, and wish us the best. But as I watched Deedee take her place as ‘door bitch’ with a controlled fierceness, I realised that this was not her first rodeo; she did this every week, and these VIPs meant nothing to her. For her this was just another night on the job, but for me it was personal. I was about to serve and slave after my competition, people who had been my equals back home, yet were now my betters. They had made it, they were the elite, and I was at the bottom of the scrapheap.

‘Here they come!’ Deedee called from the door, and then I heard them. The catcalls, the woo-hoos and the ‘yeah, brothers’ were nearing, and all I could do was grip the handle of the soda gun with white-knuckled intensity. I squared my shoulders and shifted into my character for tonight. It was going to be my best performance by far.

There were so many aspects of this group that were predictable, and Leon leading the pack was one of them. He swaggered into the lounge with his arm hooked around the shoulders of ‘his woman’. What I hadn’t predicted was that the shoulders of his woman didn’t belong to Sienna Bailey, but to a very tall, very blonde someone else.

What the hell?