Prologue

The sun beamed down through the windscreen, scorching my bare arms, and its golden glare bounced off my shades. I adjusted them, glancing at the GPS, ensuring I was still headed in the right direction. Energy surged through me as I cruised past the beach, the same excitement that had gripped me ever since I boarded the plane.

This was, without a doubt, the biggest move of my life, in more ways than one. The very idea of all that lay ahead was unbelievably exhilarating. Los Angeles was a far cry from home. I was the typical small-town girl cliché, leaving behind my tiny town in Boston to chase my childhood dream of being an actress in Hollywood's A-list world. This was my big break, my chance of a lifetime to land a huge gig that would send me scaling the ladder. I smiled to myself, reliving the daydream I'd had since I was a little girl, when I'd don a princess dress and tiara, making thank-you speeches in my mirror, pretending an old ornament was a prestigious award.

Of course, this dream hadn't come without scrutiny. Mostly from my parents, but also my brother, and even friends. All of them were determined to drill home just how unrealistic and naive I was for relocating here. I didn't listen to their biased views; they were content with their lives back home. But I wasn't. I needed more. That's why, now that I was here, I was going to commit to doing whatever it took to get to the top, to grab my dreams with both hands.

Navigating the heavy afternoon traffic, I eventually pulled up outside a tall apartment building. Its sunshine-yellow walls gave a clean, summery vibe, and I was relieved it wasn't dark and dreary, as I'd feared given my budget. I'd saved up all my life for this moment, but sadly, that didn't mean much. There's only so much money you can put away working part-time at a grocery store, even when you sell everything you can. This was the only building within my budget, and luckily, my timing was perfect, allowing me to snap up the last one-bedroom apartment almost the very second I'd found the listing. Parking in the bay closest to the entrance, I began to unload my things, dragging what I could carry into the lobby.

The interior was simplistic and tidy, with white tile flooring and plain brick walls adorned with worn beach prints. Two elevators stood on the far side of the room, next to a stairway with chipped paint peeling from the metal bannister. A large noticeboard hung over the wall of mailboxes, its entire surface covered in old and torn pamphlets. I paused to make a mental note of my slot, then took the elevator to the fifth floor, exiting onto a hallway similar to the lobby below. The wear and tear was worse up here, with small cracks in the tile floor and gathered dust in the wall grooves. The prints were faded from the sun shining through a grimy window, the colors bleached on the canvas. Each pine door was weathered, some numbers loose and hanging. I tried to ignore these things, envisioning a nicer interior, knowing it was temporary, until the jobs started flooding in.

"Two-twenty-four, two-twenty-five..." I read the numbers, searching for my new home, excitement and dread doing a tango in my stomach, unsure whether to skip or throw up in the plastic pot plant by the window.

"Two-twenty-eight-B, bingo," I muttered, noting the slightly less weathered door and secure numbers.

I took a deep breath, pulled out the key. "Here goes nothing," I sighed, gripping my bags and pushing the door open.

A sigh of relief escaped me as the room came into view. It was small, tiny even, and needed work, but it was nicer than the hallway suggested. A large window cast a warm glow from the lowering sun, illuminating sparkling dust particles. The decor was simple, with pale wooden floors and neutral magnolia walls, giving it a light and airy feel. I could probably walk the length of the room in three steps, but I knew I could make it work. Once I'd arranged my things, it would be perfect. I pushed the door closed, dropping my bags and strolling further inside, mentally noting amendments, like curtains for the brickwork archway leading to my bedroom, to give it privacy from the open-plan layout.

"Home sweet home," I smiled.

Bringing my luggage up from the car was a lengthy process, made even longer by a delay with the moving truck. But once I’d fitted all the furniture and crammed my things into every nook and cranny, I collapsed onto the sofa by the freshly cleaned, open windows, drawing in deep breaths of the chilled evening air, feeling at peace and excited for the next step. My body ached with exhaustion, a welcome reminder of the hard work ahead. Looking around, I saw how much I'd already accomplished, and I couldn't wait for more. Starting with my first audition

tomorrow.