Unlucky Break (9 page)

‘
I
can’t believe that Chloe Malle put me in her best dressed this week on
Vogue
,’ said Jess, looking at her iPad. ‘All because you dressed me like the girl from that book! Who was she again?’

‘Daisy Buchanan,’ said Andie, not looking up from the computer. She read aloud. ‘“Nikki Morgan stepped in to save James Hawthorn last night when a crazed fan attacked him at the Skyhigh Bar.” Oh my god, it’s all lies.’

Jess had come over for breakfast, which seemed to be a normal occurrence. Marta put fruit salad in front of her without waiting for an order, and Jess helped herself to coffee and picked at the fruit salad as she browsed the fashion and gossip pages.

Cece ate her six strawberries slowly. ‘That’s life in the tabloids.’ She shrugged. ‘You can’t let it get to you. At least no-one knows who the crazed fan was.’

‘I thought he liked me,’ said Andie. She knew she sounded naive.

‘You did have an intense connection,’ said Jess, still staring at herself on the screen. ‘I could tell from across the deck.’

‘I know,’ said Andie. ‘I thought he was different.’

Cece made a sympathetic face. ‘Some people are good at seeming like they’re one thing and ending up being something else entirely. Or sometimes circumstances change them. I’ve seen it happen before in Hollywood.’ Cece looked down at her plate as she spoke and Andie wondered again about her aunt’s romantic history. It was clear she had some baggage.

Jess turned the iPad to them, showing them more photos of herself from the night before.

‘You look gorgeous, Jess,’ said Cece.

‘I know, right? Totes classy.’

Cece looked up at Andie. ‘What are you doing today, Andie?’

‘Nothing in particular,’ said Andie, shrugging.
Like every other day,
she thought. It struck her how empty her life had become. Her last few months in Melbourne had been filled with looking after her mum – taking her to the hospital, managing her medications, washing, dressing, preparing meals for her. And even after Mum had died there had been so much to do and organise. Now there was nothing to do but think.

‘What about you, Jess?’ asked Cece.

‘I have an audition this afternoon.’ Jess wrinkled up her nose. She didn’t seem very pleased about it.

‘Oh? What’s the film?’ asked Cece, interested.

‘Some English drama. I won’t get the part.’ Jess looked depressed.

‘Why not?’ asked Andie, frowning.

‘Because I look like this,’ sighed Jess, pointing to her face. ‘And English films usually cast people with bad teeth.’

Andie and Cece both laughed.

‘Life must be so hard when you’re gorgeous,’ Andie teased.

‘What’s the film about?’ asked Cece.

‘Some war. Which war was Hitler in? The first or the sequel?’

‘The sequel,’ said Cece and Andie together, grinning.

‘Okay, that one,’ said Jess. ‘I’m auditioning for the role of an American nurse in London, up against the odds, you know the type.’

‘What are you going to wear?’ asked Cece.

‘No idea. Any suggestions?’ asked Jess, and Andie saw the insecurity in her face.

‘Want me to help?’ asked Andie. She had no idea what she could really offer, other than ensuring Jess didn’t look like a stripper, but she wanted to at least try to cheer her friend up.

‘Would you? I have to be at Frontier studios at 12.30.’ Jess said hopefully.

‘Yeah, sure,’ said Andie.

‘Perfect,’ said Cece. ‘If you go with Jess to the studio, you could come and meet me for lunch if you like. I can introduce you to a few people on set. I’d like to show off my niece.’

Andie smiled half-heartedly. She wanted to make an effort for her aunt’s sake, but she was so tired. Tired from last night, from jet lag, and from trying not to think about everything. Her mind felt like it was caving in.

‘Let’s go, then,’ said Jess, standing up and kissing Cece on the cheek. ‘Thanks for breakfast.’

Andie was silent as they walked over to Jess’s house.

‘What’s up?’ asked Jess.

‘Do you go to Cece’s often?’ she asked as they slipped through a gap in the hedge at the end of the garden.

‘Yeah, quite a bit. She’s really lovely and she gives great career advice,’ said Jess as she opened the door to her house.

‘You still haven’t unpacked those bags,’ admonished Andie.

‘Yeah, yeah. I will one day,’ said Jess as they walked upstairs and into her room. ‘Now. What the hell am I going to wear?’

Andie sat on the chaise lounge. ‘So, World War II, huh?’

‘Yep, the sequel,’ said Jess cheerfully.

Andie tried not to laugh. ‘They were totally different wars, you know,’ she said. ‘Twenty-odd years apart.’

‘Whatevs. A war’s a war – they’re all the same. People die and lose a lot of money. The arguments stay the same. Exactly like me and my parents,’ said Jess, pulling out a strapless pink minidress and holding it up to herself.

Andie stood and took the minidress from her. ‘You’re right about the war and wrong about the dress,’ she said, putting it back on the rack.

She flicked through rack upon rack of clothing, much of it fluorescent or with strange cut-outs. Finally she pulled out a perfectly tailored grey dress with a scoop neck.

‘This,’ she said, turning to Jess.

‘No way,’ scoffed Jess. ‘I’ve never worn that. I got it as a sample from Vivienne Westwood.’

‘It’s perfect,’ said Andie. ‘Trust me. Have you got any stockings with seams up the back?’

Jess opened a large drawer and flicked through dozens of packets of hosiery. ‘Here we go!’ she said triumphantly, waving them in the air.

Andie scanned Jess’s shoes and pulled a pair of low black heels off the shelf. She handed them to Jess. ‘You need to wear light foundation and red matte lipstick. Can you set your hair with curlers, or pull it up into some sort of a bun?’

‘You really know what you’re doing. You should be a stylist,’ said Jess admiringly.

‘I just channel how I imagine characters in books,’ said Andie. ‘Today I’m going with an
Atonement
vibe. Got any white gloves?’

‘
Atonement
… so, like Keira Knightley?’ asked Jess.

‘In the film, yes,’ said Andie. ‘It’s also a book by Ian McEwan.’

‘Cool beans,’ said Jess as she pulled some gloves from a drawer.

Andie shook her head. ‘It’s like a fashion museum here,’ she laughed. ‘That should do you. I think I’ll leave you to it. Call me when you’re ready to pick me up?’

‘You’re not going to stay and watch me get ready?’ asked Jess.

‘As much as I would love to watch the transformation, I’m going to try and write,’ said Andie.

‘What are you writing?’ asked Jess as they walked downstairs.

‘My book.’ Even as she said it, Andie felt like a fraud.

‘You know,’ said her friend as they reached the back door, ‘I’m completely jealous of you.’

‘Me?’ Andie rolled her eyes. ‘Why would you be jealous of me?’

‘Why not? You’re smart – you can write, you finished school. You have Cece for an aunt.’ Jess paused. ‘And you have your own boobs.’

Andie gave a rueful smile. ‘It’s easy to look at other people’s boobs and wish they were yours.’

‘I’ll call you,’ said Jess, kissing Andie goodbye.

Andie went back through the hedge to Cece’s house. There was no sign of anyone – not even Marta, who was usually polishing the table at this time of the day. The conditions were perfect for writing.

Upstairs, she opened her notebook and took out her pen from her bag. She always wrote on paper rather than using a computer. She found the words flowed better that way – or at least, they used to. She clicked the pen three times, her lucky number before she wrote. She put her pen to the page and paused. She sat in thought, doodling a word in the notebook.

James,
it read.

She slammed the notebook shut. No way was she going to let herself write about some lame high-school crush on a movie star who probably hadn’t given her a thought since he went home with his psycho girlfriend.
Not gonna happen,
she thought.

She lay in bed with Gigi and dozed, thinking about James, much to her disgust. Although she supposed it beat thinking about Mum and Cameron for a change.

The next thing Andie knew, Marta was shaking her awake to tell her Jess was outside in her Porsche. Andie jumped out of bed, ran a brush over her tangled hair, and ran down to meet Jess.

She noted with pleasure as she approached the car that Jess seemed to have followed her outfit advice to the letter. Her red hair was set into an attractive wave, the dress looked suitably demure and the gloves set everything off perfectly.

As she got into the car, though, she saw that Jess had accessorised with a pair of massive, sparkly false eyelashes.

‘Lose the eyelashes,’ said Andie sternly. She was still tired and a little grumpy, despite her nap. She didn’t know why.

‘Aww,’ Jess whined. ‘I like them. They add a little something to this super boring outfit.’

‘They’re fine for a twenty-first century starlet, but definitely not for a wartime nurse in love.’

Jess peeled them off sulkily. ‘Sometimes you’re no fun.’

Andie shrugged. Jess was right. She wasn’t very fun anymore. She was nothing, just kind of empty inside.

Jess drove fast to the studio, electronic music blaring from the speakers. Andie gripped the seat, pressing her foot to an imaginary brake as they squealed across town.

They passed through security at the studio, and Jess parked in the visitors carpark.

‘Call me when you’re done,’ said Andie.

‘God, I’m so nervous,’ said Jess.

Andie realised then how much Jess wanted this role. Or probably more accurately, any role. She’d googled Jess and seen she hadn’t had an acting job in over a year. Andie had also watched a few episodes on YouTube of the TV show that had made Jess a star. She was actually a really good actor with great comedic timing. She made the silly scripts seem better than they were. Andie had been ashamed for mentally writing Jess off as a mediocre soapie actor with no substance.

Andie reached out and grabbed Jess’s hand. ‘You’ll be amazing. You’re so good, Jess. You are – don’t ever forget it.’

Andie’s heart ached, remembering how her mum would say the same thing to her before the exams, before any test.
You’re amazing, Andie. You are – don’t ever forget it.
Her mum was good at those speeches.

Jess smiled at Andie. ‘Thanks,’ she said, seeming a little calmer.

Andie paused. ‘Who’s the classiest chick you know?’ she asked.

Jess thought for a moment. ‘Cece.’

Andie hadn’t expected that. She frowned. ‘I guess she is. I haven’t really spent much time with her yet.’

‘She totally is,’ said Jess passionately. ‘I mean, her reputation was nearly ruined when she broke up with her last boyfriend and then there’s the health thing, but she’s always so gracious and lovely, and she always looks so put together.’ Jess shook her head. ‘She’s amazing.’

Andie nodded, making a mental note to google the boyfriend and the ‘health thing’. She gave Jess’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. ‘So channel Cece in your audition, yeah?’

A smile spread across her friend’s face. ‘Yeah. Good plan.’

‘Chookas,’ said Andie.

Jess looked at her. ‘What?’

‘Chookas. It’s what you say for luck in the theatre. I assume it applies to film as well,’ said Andie.

‘You’re a chooka,’ said Jess.

‘Your face is a chooka,’ replied Andie and they both giggled.

As Jess walked off towards some white bungalows, Andie went to reception to ask for Cece.

‘Ms Powers said to take a golf cart down to studio seventeen,’ said the receptionist.

‘A what?’ asked Andie.

‘A golf cart. She’s reserved one under your name,’ she said. ‘They’re just around the back of this building. Take any one, follow the yellow line and bring it back here when you’re done.’

The phone rang and the receptionist turned her back on Andie to answer it. Andie realised that she’d been dismissed.

Andie walked around the back of the building and looked at the golf carts. How hard could they be to drive? If she could drive on the other side of the road, then surely she’d be okay.

She got into one. There was no key, only a button marked ‘on’. She pressed it and the cart hummed to life. Otherwise, the controls seemed to be similar to a car. She slowly backed out and started cautiously down the road with the yellow line.

‘You’re not in Australia anymore, Dorothy,’ she murmured to herself as she passed a life-sized stuffed panda being wheeled into a studio.

She kept driving. The studios were buzzing with activity. People walked purposefully, some holding scripts or props, others carting camera equipment. She spotted a couple of costumed actors in the distance. She passed several studios – No.3, No.27, No.14. There didn’t seem to be any logic to the way they were arranged.

As she continued through the lot, there were fewer and fewer people around. She wondered if she was going the right way.

A golf-cart with a trailer of bamboo plants went past her. Probably for the panda, she thought idly. She looked as far ahead as she could to see if she could spot seventeen.

Uh-oh,
she thought.
Where’s the yellow line gone?
She swore under her breath and turned the cart around. She backtracked, but couldn’t find the yellow line. When had it disappeared? She’d been so distracted by all the people and props and sets that she didn’t know. She turned down an alley between two deserted buildings. Nothing. She tried another, but with no success.

Every time she turned the cart, she ended up in a different abandoned area of the studio and she was getting more and more frustrated.
Why doesn’t this thing have a GPS?
she thought as she turned another corner.

She was in the middle of a pretend street. Up ahead she saw a coffin covered in yellow flowers in the back of a hearse in the middle of the road. Andie’s mind was flooded with images of her mum’s coffin, covered in her favourite red banksias. Andie realised she couldn’t breathe.

Andie had been there when they closed the coffin. Mum had looked simple and elegant in her green cotton dress and her silver sandals. Her face had been quiet and peaceful, with all the stress finally eased away. Andie hadn’t let them put a scarf on her head. Mum had ended up hating those scarves.
They’re heavy on my head,
she’d complained at the end.