Hot Docs On Call: Hollywood Heartthrobs. Louisa George

want to be here. Who wouldn’t want to be surrounded by all this wonderful Hollywood chaos?

      She tapped her foot. ‘Still waiting...’

      ‘Ah. Well, I haven’t ever waited tables, Lola, but I think it generally works like this: when customers leave a table—or rather stomp away—it indicates that they’ve finished and it’s okay to clear their used cups away.’

      ‘Too clever for your own good.’ She couldn’t help the smile. ‘And I didn’t stomp.’

      His gaze ran from her face, down over her body and lingered a little at her backside. Which made her face heat even more. Her stomach suddenly started with a strange fluttery feeling and she wondered if she was coming down with the same thing as Cameron.

      He nodded. ‘You so did. Little angry stomps.’

      ‘Condescending too? Great.’ He’d been watching her that closely? ‘Well, it’s hardly surprising given the circumstances. And I meant I’m waiting for an explanation of why you were so rude.’

      ‘Oh.’ He gave a small shrug. ‘That.’

      ‘Yes. That. An apology would be nice.’

      He actually looked surprised, as if saying sorry was something he’d never ever thought about, let alone done. But he walked back towards the table and she felt intrigued enough to follow him. She just about caught his words, more of a mumble really. ‘I apologise if my words upset you.’

      ‘Not sorry you said them. Not sorry you jumped to conclusions. You’re just sorry I was upset? Where did you learn the art of apologising?’

      ‘You’re supposed to learn it? Is that what they teach in British schools? The art of apology?’ He stood at the table while she sat down—no doubt a play for power. ‘Figures.’

      ‘By which you mean?’

      He lifted his cup to his mouth and took a sip. Grimaced. Put it back down again. ‘Look, things got a little heated back there. I think we need to start over.’

      Hallelujah. Because she didn’t dare face Cameron and admit she’d scared the doctor away. Even if he did deserve it. ‘Yes, yes, we do.’

      ‘Excellent. First things first.’ He turned and walked over to the café truck, chatted briefly with the chef—even laughed! Laughed. The man had a sense of humour...but clearly had no intention of sharing much of it with her. Then he returned with a steaming cup of coffee. He sat, sipped and smiled. ‘Great. Now, where were we?’

      ‘You don’t like tea?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘So why didn’t you say anything before?’

      ‘You ordered and assumed I’d want it. I was being polite. It is possible.’ He leaned back in his chair and smirked. ‘I admit, I was an idiot.’

      Still no I’m sorry. Interesting. ‘To be honest, Cameron can be difficult. I have to bite my lip an awful lot.’ She didn’t tell him about how she screamed into her pillow when she was so frustrated and utterly exhausted by her demands, or had fantasised about a jellyfish attack on that Hawaiian beach, while she had been knee deep in doggy-do with three over-excited, totally over-pampered Chihuahuas at the grooming salon.

      An eyebrow peaked. ‘So why do you stay?’

      ‘Have you tried to get a job here, with everyone else all vying for something in the industry? She pays reasonably well—although it’s long hours. And because she’s the closest I’ve got to a film director since I arrived here. That’s my target, really. The longer I’m with Cameron the more I’ll meet the right people. I need her. I need this job. I know that sounds mercenary, like I’m using her, but I really need the contacts and exposure. Does that make me a bad person?’

      He looked at her for a moment or two, and again she felt a strange rising sensation in her stomach, a need to look away but a compulsion to keep staring into those bluest of blue eyes. ‘Lola, I don’t know you, but from what I’ve seen so far I couldn’t imagine you’re a bad person. A little full on, maybe—’

      ‘My dad says I’m a chatterbox.’

      ‘I’m not commenting on the grounds that I may incriminate myself further.’ But he gave a wry smile in agreement. ‘Basically, you’re just doing what everyone else does—feathering your own nest. Making things work for you. It’s the way of the world. It’s why I’m here instead of back at the clinic, or back in Van Nuys, where I grew up. Networking, making connections. How are you going to get on in life if you don’t use your contacts?’

      Well, that certainly made her feel a little better. Although he’d clearly given it a lot of thought and justified it all down the line. Was he one of those true workaholic types? Or was he just completely self-focused?

      She’d met a lot of people like that here—really, she’d thought she was highly ambitious, but her over-achieving tendencies paled into insignificance compared to those of some of the men she’d met. The ones who had stood her up because of a last-minute audition and hadn’t bothered to call her and had left her sitting in a bar, like a lemon. Or who had used their in-between-jobs actor badges to repeatedly make her pay for everything on dates. Or—the very worst—the one who had slept with her as a way of getting to meet Cameron. That one had really stung. She’d fallen heavily for that guy and all he’d wanted had been an introduction to her boss.

      Her love life had taken a serious dive since she’d moved here, and now she was totally off dating anyone. Definitely. It was going to be just her and her scripts and, she thought with a sigh, Cameron and her three little Chihuahua babies.

      Having drained his coffee, Jake gave her a small smile. ‘So you’re an actress, then?’

      ‘No. God, no. Although I did study drama from being about three years old and did my time on stage at university, but I fell in love with words, creating characters. Making things up. I’m a writer. Screenplays.’ What a buzz to say that out loud. Finally...finally! She’d escaped the endless expectations and was chasing her own dream, instead of being forced to live someone else’s. Although, she realised, freedom did come at a price—guilt, mostly.

      He sat upright. ‘And you came all the way from England just for that?’

      ‘Just? People have done things that are far more rash. I wanted to be part of the scene here. This is where screenplays get made into movies. This is where someone can take my work, my idea, and make it a reality. Besides, my dad’s from LA and he always talked it up.’

      ‘So if he liked it, why did he leave? I presume he left?’

      ‘He met my mum and married her and they moved back to her home, which is London. Basically, he gave up his career here for love.’ He’d taken second best for a job, moved countries, given up dreams. She was not going to follow in his footsteps—she was going to mould her own. Chase her own dreams. Hard.

      She wasn’t going to give anything up for love—when she was ready she was going to have it all. She just wasn’t sure if she would ever be ready—how did you know? Her plan was to achieve all those things her father hadn’t. To be a success. Because when he’d watched his daughter performing on stage all she’d seen in his eyes had been the light of regret. Lola never wanted to have any regrets. Or to walk on a stage ever again.

      Jake looked startled. Shocked. As if the whole idea of love was alien and somehow absurd. ‘Why would anyone would do that? Why take a chance on something that could just as easily fall apart? What does he do now?’

      ‘He teaches drama, which he loves. And I’m sure he’s happy where he is. I know he adores his family. Too much at times. But he used to tell such amazing stories about living here and the films he was in. Did you see Big City Drive? No? It was about life in LA in the eighties. He said it was really accurate. The whole city vibe. I think I fell in love with this city just from that film. Although it does help that my dad was in it.’

      Jake gave