Chapter Text
You were still getting used to your new life in LA. It had been three months since you moved from the middle of nowhere in England, swapping the checkerboard of fields and cattle for another kind of grid of roads and infrastructure. It was a truly new experience for you, whose closest reference to the scale of Los Angeles was London, and you’d only ever visited London once before.
Back home, you had left the old friends you had grown up with through primary and secondary school, and the newer friends from University and your first years of employment. They were all sorry to see you go, but Los Angeles was the place to be if you ever wanted a shot at making it as a producer. So you had packed up your old flat, leaving behind your boyfriend and kitten, with the hope that long-distance was manageable and LA would welcome you with open arms.
Those three months had passed quickly, and you were still no closer to finding purpose or employment, especially in the area you wanted to work in. You had begun to believe this great venture was, in fact, a great mistake, and your boyfriend was less than happy you were so far away with nothing to show for it.
“You said LA was the place for you, babe. But as far as you’ve told me, there aren’t any production jobs going despite the fact that this was supposed to be the place that had more jobs than anywhere else. Why can’t you be back here with me?” John said down the phone when you called that afternoon.
“I know John! I know. You think I’m happy lingering here as some glorified bartender?” You tried to argue back.
“Then why don’t you come back home. Listen, no one can fault you for trying LA out, but ultimately, if it wasn’t meant to be, then it wasn’t meant to be. You can’t twist fate, babe.” That was John’s response to everything. Everything was fate. Everything was meant to be. It was so charming when you first started dating, as if he could feel a cosmic force pulling you two together.
“But it’s only been three months, John. I mean, it would be different if it were a year in and there wasn’t a single hint of a job worth my while. But… I mean, I hardly even know the city yet.” You tried to argue your case back to him, but he didn’t take your cop out.
“Well, that's kind of on you, babe. You refuse to make friends and explore what’s actually out there. You only ever seem to be at work or at home. If you truly believe that LA is where you need to be, then prove it to me. Put yourself out there.”
He was right, of course. John always knew your most limiting qualities, and an inferiority complex and general inability to be spontaneous probably weren’t helping your career prospects, especially in a city known for its extroverted inhabitants.
“I guess. Listen, I’ll have to call you tomorrow. I’ve got a shift at the bar at 7, so I’ve got to get moving.” You tried to excuse yourself, not wanting to delve any further into your failings as a human.
“Of course, babe.”John acknowledged. Then a beat of silence, “I love you.”
“Yeah… Love you too.” You hung up. You felt so guilty trying to escape these hard conversations with John, but it was true that you had a shift tonight, and as you walked from your apartment to the bus stop, you made a promise to yourself to ‘put yourself out there’, like John wanted you to.
At work, things flowed as they usually did. You were working at this upscale bar, with a sort of cocktails and entertainment vibe to it. When you first applied for a job, you were wondering if there were any openings in the entertainment side of the business. A minor production or writing role going spare? But, alas, as with everywhere in LA at the moment, only hospitality seemed to be hiring. So, an intense amount of searching and five unsuccessful applications later, you accepted the bar’s offer to have you start as a bartender.
The job required an extensive knowledge of cocktails and spirit brands, as well as wine pairings for the food, and the ability to perform certain tricks with the shakers. You had been well out of your depth a month and a half ago, but now? Now, you were flowing with the rest of them. Spinning and serving drinks with flair and a confidence you weren’t sure you had ever possessed back home. Customers seemed intrigued by your English accent, though less than you were expecting, and the regular staff didn’t comment on it once.
Tonight's clientele was a mix of the weekly regulars, here to see the popular Wednesday night drag show, and some fresh faces, tourists and first dates alike. A fairly rowdy group had moved into the two booths at the back about an hour into your shift and seemed entranced with the drag artist, tipping heavily between each round of drinks. You had been watching them carefully, aware that groups of their size often caused a little more trouble than they were worth, but aside from some louder hooting and hollering, the group was fairly well-behaved. They had taken turns coming up and ordering rounds, each member of the group buying a round each, an admirably democratic system that reminded you fondly of home and the pub you and your friends had frequented on a weekly basis. You missed them so much.
As you were pondering the dynamic of the group and generally reminiscing about your missing besties, it seemed the group's next round was impending as a shorter brunette approached you, a taller brunette falling in conspiratorial step with her.
“Hi there!” the taller brunette greeted you over the shoulder of the shorter, who seemed momentarily delayed, probably weighing up her order or trying to recollect the order of the other 15 or so members of her group. You put on your customer service smile and greeted them both.
“Hiya! What can I get for you two?”
“I would love a Cosmo- wait, are you British?! I love that!” The taller one replied. You laughed along indulgently, finding her love of your accent fun after being so long ignored.
“Yes, haha, I am. I’ve just moved over here, actually, so no American lilt yet.” You supplied, not sure if you needed to go into that much detail or if it was okay just to say yes, you were British.
“Oh, that’s great! Angela LOVES the British accent. She can do a really good impression, I think.” The taller one directed a glance to her friend, prompting you to look over at the hesitation on the shorter girl’s face.
“AMANDA!” Angela whispered very aggressively to her partner. She had such an expressive face, you thought to yourself, chuckling a little at her embarrassment.
“Haha, I’d love to hear it!” You tried to engage with Angela.
“Oh my God! NO. I wouldn’t dare offend you.” She replied back with so much haste that you almost felt bad for the poor girl.
“How about I try to do an American accent first, then?” You prompted, “Then yours won’t seem even half as bad, I bet.” You told Angela.
“Oh yeah, I’m down for that! Give it your best shot.” She agreed in response.
You cleared your throat a little and went in for your best (worst) valley girl accent that always cracked up your friends back home, “Oh my gosh! Like, gag me with a spoon! That is totally awesome!”
Angela and Amanda both clung onto each other with laughter, both clearly taken aback by your commitment to the bit. You felt very proud to see the two so clearly entertained.
“Wow, that was bad!”, “Yeah, I can’t believe it still sounded kind of posh!” They both joked with you.
“Okay, how’s this…” Angela started as she calmed down, and out came an entertainingly accurate mockery of some Harry Styles wannabe, “Alright, mate? I’m absolutely knackered, I could down a pint of Guinness right now, love.”
You burst out laughing, and Angela smiled over at you so proudly that you had to tell her just how good a job she had done.
“I swear! I have three mates back home who sound exactly like that. I’m pretty sure they’ve told me that exact same thing as well!” You told her.
You, Angela and Amanda chatted about how you were finding LA. You told them about your plan to find production work here, and how that hadn’t really gone to plan. They were both really sorry to hear that and told you they’d keep a lookout. You also told them about your boyfriend back home, and Amanda sympathised with you, saying she couldn’t bear to be apart from her husband too long, but Angela stayed fairly quiet about all of it, and you wondered if she had maybe gone through a break-up recently, and so maybe it was a sore subject.
Not five minutes into your conversation, you heard an exasperated voice shout across the room, “GUYS! CAN YOU ORDER THE DRINKS BEFORE WE LEAVE, PLEASE??” Angela and Amanda rolled their eyes at one another and moved on to the drinks order, which you had inputted and rang up for them, allowing Angela to pay before you got started on the drinks.
Three hours later, after four more rounds and a drag performance that had concluded an hour ago, the group, being the last ones in, began to flock and fuss around their jackets, clearly ready to head home. You watched as they meandered through the doorway, shooting Amanda a big wave as she turned her eyes back to the bar. Then it was quiet, and time to begin closing down.
You were wiping down the bar and emptying the beer matts into the sink, ready to be washed, when you heard the door open again, this time with Angela poking her head through.
“Hey! Sorry, I’m sure you're trying desperately to close up and get home. We must’ve stayed much longer than you were hoping.” She immediately apologised, lingering half in and half out of the doorway.
“That’s okay! What’s up?” You were honestly happy to see her again, not minding a bit that she’d interrupted your close.
“I was just thinking I didn’t catch your name?” She prompted, approaching you and leaning on the other side of the bar.
“Oh… it’s Y/N.” You replied.
“Well, nice to properly meet you, Y/N” She held out her hand, and you took it in your own to shake like a true gentleman. “I’m Angela.”
“Yes, I caught that before. Nice to properly meet you, too.”
Angela looked around a little, leaving a small silence in the conversation before she continued a little self-consciously, “Um, that’s not the only reason I came back in. I just wondered, because you said you were looking for a production job, and I mean, I don’t know what kind of area you’ve worked in the past or if it's really what you were looking for, but one of the producers where I work is actually leaving the company and… Oh, I work at Smosh, sorry I should mention that, it’s like a sketch/ comedy show on YouTube, and basically, I think we might be advertising for someone to fill the role soon. So, if you'd like, I could get your number and send you the details once I have more information. Did that make sense at all, or was I just rambling?”
The words had spilt out of her at a mile a minute, and though you struggled to keep up entirely, what you caught was so incredible that you reassured her immediately, “No, that made sense! That sounds amazing, I can’t believe it! I mean, I’m not sure if I’m the best fit. I’ve never worked on a sketch show before, or on YouTube. But I’ve produced comedy shows for Channel 4 in the UK, so maybe there’s a crossover that could work?” You rattled off, hoping to find some connection to the job that meant she wouldn’t dismiss her initial interest in you for it.
“Yeah, that sounds like a good experience to me! I mean, the company’s pretty laid back in terms of relevant experience, and I personally think it's better when you have a new vision to bring to the table rather than copying what we’ve already got. Hopefully, you get an interview! Anyway, I’ll need your number?” She asked, handing over her phone with a contact page open and already filled in with your name, “So I can text you about anything that comes up.”
“Yeah, of course. There you go!” You say, filling in your LA number and last name and handing it back to her.
“Great, I’ll send you a message so you know it's me… and sent.” Your phone vibrated in your pocket, and you took it to see a Hi message, followed immediately by an It’s Angela btw message on your lock screen
“Got it. Thank You.”
“No problem. I mean, hopefully talk soon?” She propositioned politely.
“Yeah, hopefully.” You replied, and you genuinely meant what you said.
Angela stumbled back from the bar a bit, “Yeah… well, goodbye Y/N. Thanks for the stellar service!” She exclaimed, grimacing at her own use of the word ‘stellar’, and she began pacing nervously back towards the exit.
“Haha, thanks for the stellar company and career advice, Angela.” You repeat her use of the word ‘stellar’ to show that you appreciate it and offer her a big grin, which she echoes.
You both say goodbye as Angela closes the door behind her, and you're left once again to the closing up. Except now, there was something to look forward to. A reason to mop the floors and polish the cutlery, a purpose to steam the glasses and refill the toilet paper in the bathroom. You had the chance at a job, a production job, at a real LA company, with really cool staff. You would have to wait and see when Angela would give you the details, and if you had a shot in hell at actually bagging the job.