“Terrance, that's, just, like, so incredible,” I say instead

Because that's clearly the reaction he's expecting. Airheaded bimbo and all.

Why am i even bothering. Because I can't afford to alienate myself from even the dregs of the showbiz world I instantly tell myself.

“That really is amazing,' I continue, 'but I think I get it, so no questions. I’m just speechless. I mean, milk jugs. Did you seriously come up with that on your own? That really is so clever.”

Terrence beams a smug smile at me, every bit the preening peacock. Fucking Idiot.

‘Move to LA’, I’d thought. ‘Became an actress’, I’d told myself. ‘You’ve always wanted to do it. You’ve always loved the movies, to perform. You’re beautiful, you’re sexy, you're blessed with a body, and for crying out loud, you actually can act well. You’ve taken classes, you’ve been on the stage in local productions, you’ve studied the masters, you’re in touch with your emotions, and you have the empathy to really see the roles. To understand them. Of course it’ll work out for you. You’ll be Sydney Sweeney and Cate Blanchett combined. You’ll have money and fame and nominations, not to mention the respect of your peers and adoration of audiences. You’ll be a sex symbol. The hottest leading men will vie for your attention and the most talented directors will structure their filming schedules around your availability. The world will be your oyster.’

Then, reality strikes.