Scarlet Starlet

“We're here now,” the driver said as the limousine came to a halt.

“Oh... great.”

My palms were sweaty and my heart raced like a rally car. I knew that I had to get out of my seat and face the photographers, but my trembling body was ordering me to ask the driver to take me back home again. I would have given anything to be curled up in my sofa with a bowl of banana ice cream in my lap whilst watching a pretentious soap opera.

“Are you nervous, Ms. Wright?”

“Not at all,” I lied and felt my cheeks turning bright red underneath my layers of makeup.

The windows of the white limousine were tinted black and I knew that the media-people outside couldn't see me but I could certainly see them. I could see their insane-looking faces, fuzzy microphones, notepads and twenty pound cameras.

Just outside the car laid a long red carpet and as my eyes followed the piece of fabric I could see a tall figure standing by the end of it. The darkness of his suit contrasted the deep red carpet and the white background behind him. Hay-colored, and with that I mean hay of very good quality, hair was styled to perfection on his head.

Ziggy, I thought.

Even if the young man was far away there were no doubts about his identity since his confident rooster-like posture gave him away.

The people from the press were screaming for someone to open the limousine's door and a man in a plastic-looking suit scurried towards the long car and almost tripped on his feet in his efforts of pleasing the mob. The stressed man's face was glistening from drops of sweat that trickled down his forehead and the bridge of his nose. I could see his hands fumbling by the handle of the door and he managed to, surprisingly enough, open it.

At first I was completely blinded by the camera flashes and even with my eyes closed I could see them under my eyelids. People were shouting things at me, but I couldn't bring myself to open my mouth and answer their questions. I held my arm up to shield my face from the evil flashing lights and carelessly flung one leg out of the limousine.

Regret immediately struck me and I stopped in the middle of the movement with my one leg out the door. What if the photographers had seen my panties? Or worse... what if the moment had been captured by their cameras?

Angst and panic flooded my senses but I knew that I couldn't undo the move and decided to keep on moving. The only thing I could do at the moment was to hope that my dress hadn't betrayed me. If it turned out that my underpants had been caught on camera I would have to consider burning the piece of fabric; with or without the designer's consent.

“Crap,” I muttered under my breath while putting both my feet firmly on the red carpet. I was out of the limousine and couldn't go back into its safety even if I just wanted to crawl back into it and hiss warningly to anyone who tried to drag me outside again.

“Troya! Troya! Over here! Give the camera a smile!”

“Is that your natural hair color?”

“Who designed your dress?”

“Why did you and Ziggy arrive in separate limousines?”

I merely smiled and didn't bother to respond to the mob's questions. It wasn't what I was here for and I knew that the same questions would pop up again either way.

I slowly walked the red carpet and fired off toothy and stiff grins to the photographers while posing with my hands firmly placed on my hips. The hand-on-the-hip pose really does wonders for my figure in pictures and makes my arms look slimmer and my body more feminine.

The dress wasn't too formfitting and only cinched in under the chest-area to create an illusion of actual breasts. I was happy that the dress wasn't too tight around the belly as it was my problem area and I had always had troubles keeping my weight in check.

I don't have to eat the cookie to gain weight; no, it's enough for me to just look at it. Fatty food and sweets are my security blanket and at the same time my worst enemy. In the 'real world' I was considered a slim girl but in the movie industry they seemed to judge girls completely different. Here I was a curvy girl. Plus-sized even.

Anyways, the Hollywood ideal of a woman didn't make me want to run miles everyday or feast on vegetables. I liked my body enough to treat it with respect and let it indulge in treats now and then. Being a good role model was far more important in my opinion than starving to please an unhealthy ideal. Though, I have to admit that I sometimes pinched my stomach at night and wished that it was just a little bit flatter.

Ziggy turned his head and grinned widely when he saw me. His long legs took a few strides and then he was standing right next to me.

“You finally made it here!” Ziggy said and pulled me into a warm embrace.

I, being a not so tall person, was for a moment smothered by the fabric of his black suit jacket. It was an extremely awkward position to be in as I really didn't know this man at all. To not appear impolite in front of the cameras I returned the hug with one arm but was very relieved when he finally pulled away.

That was when I noticed something horrible and I felt like the wind was knocked out of me.

On Ziggy's jacket was a beige line of foundation from where my face had been squished. Damn makeup. At first I stared at it dumbfounded and then I started to furiously wipe his chest with my hand. Of course that just made things worse and it looked like someone had smeared dry faeces on the front of his expensive jacket.

“Calm down, girl! I know I look good but you don't have to grope me in public,” Ziggy said flirtatiously and wiggled an eyebrow, “Save that until later.”

I looked up at him with my mouth open. I realized that he obviously hadn't taken notice of the mess I had created yet. What to do? I could either play along and laugh it off or confess my severe clumsiness to the hottest young actor in America. The decision wasn't a hard one to make at all.

“I think I just ruined your jacket and I'm so sorry! My foundation rubbed off on the black fabric when we hugged and I feel so horribly embarrassed,” I blurted out in one breath.

Ziggy stared at me with a blank expression on his face. Great, now he hates me.

“Please, forgive me. I can pay for a new suit,” I pleaded quietly while clasping my hands and holding them over my stomach.

Suddenly Ziggy started to laugh. The laughter flowed out of him like a river of pearls and he grabbed my shoulders and turned both of us towards the cameras. The photographers had been taking pictures sporadically the entire time, but with a clean shot of our faces everyone started clicking away. A sea of flashing lights was formed in the blink of an eye and I bet they all would capture my confusion.

“Listen up!” Ziggy said loudly and squeezed the bare skin on my arm. Most of the cameras stopped flashing and everything grew close to silent.

“The lovely Ms. Troya accidentally brushed off some makeup on my jacket and now she tells me she wants to pay for a new one,” the hay-haired actor said, “Isn't it nice to know that honest human beings still exist in Los Angeles?”

The media people started shouting back things like 'she's one of a kind' and 'kiss her' and I felt my temperature rising to over two-hundred degrees.

Ziggy bent down and carefully brushed away a lock of my scarlet red hair and placed his lips right next to my ear. “Relax, honey. Everyone loves you.”

I gulped down a mouthful of saliva and nodded as an answer. I had shuddered a bit too much than I could justify for myself when his lips had brushed my ear lobe. I had always been awkward around guys and this was no exception.

We let the photographers take a few more pictures of us before we went inside the cinema to take our seats. I was placed right next to Ziggy and he would occasionally lean over so that our shoulders brushed and whisper something in my ear. Most of the time I didn't focus on his words and instead worked against my natural instinct to run off to the nearest bathroom and hide in a filthy stall. Playing cool and unaffected only worked when I was playing a character and in reality I was hopelessly awkward.

After a while the cinema auditorium went black and the curtains slid to the sides and revealed the big screen. Soon after that the movie started and I was consumed by it.

It was odd seeing myself as the popular character Jane, but I had to admit that the end result was something special. The crowd laughed, clapped their hands and gasped for their breaths as the story unraveled. After the final kiss between me and Ziggy in the rain the credits started to roll and the movie was over. All of my hard work had come to this and I was pleased with the outcome, but still it was up to the critics to decide whether or not people would actually see it.

Then the lights were on again and I looked around; that's when my heart nearly stopped. Every single one stood up and clapped their hands. A standing ovation? For me?

“I can't believe this,” I said to myself as I watched the cheering audience. If I'm not totally mistaken I also saw a tear or two rolling down some of the faces.

Ziggy shook my arm and gestured for me to stand up. He had somehow already gotten up on his feet without me noticing it. “Get up, Troya! They're clapping for you!”

I managed to stand up on shaky legs with Ziggy as my support. A genuine smile was painting my face as I raised my arm and waved at all the people who had come to see the movie 'Lovely Jane'.

“Welcome to the A-list,” Ziggy said in a low voice, “It's a tough life being on top so remember to wear an oxygen mask.”

Needless to say, the comment drilled itself into my brain.